


Thomas Müller and the Fight for Antiá

by tempered_rose



Series: Realm Verse [3]
Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst and Humor, Battle, Character Death, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Dark, Dark Character, Dark Magic, Demonic Possession, Demons, Dwarves, Elves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Epic, Epic Friendship, Established Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Evil, Feelings, Feels, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Goblins, Good versus Evil, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Multiple Pairings, Mythology - Freeform, Original Character(s), Possession, Quests, Rare Pairings, Same-Sex Marriage, Sequel, Side Story, Soldiers, Sorcerers, Surprise Pairing, Swords, Swords & Sorcery, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, War, Wizards, various pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 66,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2163846">Miroslav Klose and the Fate of the Dragon</a> and the world of Antiá has moved on. Or has it? When dark magic rears its long-forgotten head and two dear friends go missing, it's up to the King, Thomas Müller, to save everyone, including himself, without falling into the darkness and being lost to it forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So it begins again! I promise to update more regularly and hold on to your seats everyone, we're in for a crazy ride! If you haven't read the first one, I would definitely recommend doing so because why not? Also, you may be confused. Also, there was a giant one-shot that serves as a buffer between that story and this one which is also interesting, if I do say so myself.
> 
> This story, as with most others, is dedicated to you guys--my readers. Without you, the inspiration and the muse would not be as kind and I would definitely not have written so much. Thank you to everyone who reads my stories, thank you more so to those who comment. I read each and everyone even if I'm awful and don't reply. If you stuck around from the last story until this one: I hope the world is kind to you and may you have cookies and milk on me. *hugs for all of you*
> 
> Now without further delay, let's get this journey rolling! Also, in case anyone cares, I re-did the map and it looks a LOT better. View it [here](http://i.imgur.com/t77edsC.jpg).
> 
>  

Marco sighed as he was forced to look away from the book he had been studying yet _again_. How hard could it be to move things silently? He pushed away from his desk and moved over to the doorway to yell at the movers once again for disturbing his peace and tranquility that he was using to study an ancient text that he had recently acquired.

So precious were the pages he had been reading that he had touched them delicately, as if they were the petals of a rose that may have wilted if one so much as breathed on them the wrong way. The pages, what few of them remained from so ancient a text, were dark brown with age, creaking as they were turned, and they smelled of musty dankness—Gods only knew where this book had been dug up from before it had found itself in the Master of the Guard’s possession. 

The pages were written in an Ancient dialect of Elvish, much to Marco’s dismay. He was still working on his Elvish, and was not as entirely proficient in it as he would have liked. Though it really wouldn’t have mattered in this instance because the words were so ancient that even Manuel, who Marco had enlisted to help transcribe the entire work, had had a hard time transcribing the few passages that Marco had sent him. And the half-elf had had the entire Hidden City to assist in translating them!

Marco continued to shout orders about how to move house in a quiet fashion while the book remained open on his desk. On the open pages were a few paragraphs of already-transcribed words that Manuel had managed to return to him from Indéne. Marco had just been about to read them when he had been interrupted. 

The paragraphs were as follows:

“Though the tales of our dwarven-friends are fading with every passing sunset, there are a few stories that remain in our mutual language, though I suspect lost soon they shall be just like the race of our friends. None of these stories are so great as the story of the dwarven Velolduhr, for every dwarfling knows the tale of the lands Beyond our viewing. Where the Elvenkind travel at the end of our days is not to the same realm as the dwarven Velolduhr. Perhaps it is a wise thing that few descriptions of the legendary realm are known to us because what there is to know is too great for one to comprehend.

Velolduhr is a magical place, a fairy place, one that is impossible to exist, though I would advise against mentioning this assumption to our dwarf-friends. You see, my friend, Velolduhr is revered for not only its great beauty which is—as I am told—beyond description, but also for the bounty and plenty that simply exists there. It is, with all reverence to the word in the Dwarven tongues, a paradise.

I am informed by my host and his royal kin that the quality of herb and shelter cannot be matched, for the gardens are bountifully laden with the greatest crop of botany one could ask for. A chemist would find themselves in a haven of bliss there. Shelters are made in the forests of the land where one could sleep underneath the stars without fear of beast or man to suggest otherwise. Velolduhr is held in the highest regard to our dwarven friends and with tales such as these I am envious that I cannot see it myself as of yet.

Take this as no insult to your realm or praise to the dwarves, my friend, it is simply a fact. Of course, I shall try to investigate further and it will take great skill of magic to find Velolduhr and return once I have done so. And I pledge myself to accomplishing this task, just as my host and his kin and ancestors have done. The journey to Velolduhr is a quest I yearn to accomplish, and it is easy for me to see why the dwarves also look for their Valhalla.

I hope to send more news to you soon regarding this matter. Until our paths meet us again, I shall stay here in the North Mountains, searching for a way to find this mysterious realm and bring news of it back to the land of the Elvenkind before the end of this Age. May you prosper in my absence—”

There the translations ended because the pages had also ended. It was not a complete story, nor would it ever be in this state. Marco finally finished scolding the staff and he returned to his desk. He reseated himself and took up the fresher parchment that Manuel had sent him with his translation.

As the Guardsman read what his friend had sent, the sounds of the city beyond the castle bustled and hummed as it had in the five years since the Fall of the Scarlet Tower. The sound of peace was lost to the man, however, as he read the words on the paper. He had never heard of Velolduhr, nor had anyone until these pages had been found, not even Tobias.

Marco frowned as he considered the words. Well, at least he had a new distraction, he thought to himself as he sighed in annoyance at a completely unrelated issue. He rubbed his temple and found himself staring off into space. He hated moving. He hated break-ups. He hated hating things. Shaking himself, he returned to his study and hoped that the mystery of the Dwarven Velolduhr would reveal itself to him.


	2. In Need of Fresh Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter :D I hope you like it, though I do apologize to Manu in advance. ;-; You'll see what I mean...

On the warm and gentle summer’s breeze, the song of the birds from the heights of the pines carried effortlessly into the glen and beyond it. It was the perfect afternoon, quiet and peaceful, and spent entirely outdoors like it should have been. Manuel was resting on the ground, his back on the soft grass and his eyes were closed to prevent the sun from blinding him while he listened to the birds and his head rested on the thigh of his companion, who was gently running his fingers through the blond hair while trying to read the ancient dialect that Manuel was supposed to be translating for Marco.

Manuel had agreed to do it, but only on his terms and with no deadline. Marco had agreed stating that there was no need for a rush anyway, and Manuel had taken to occasionally glancing at the pages he was sent every so often, but only outside and in the presence of his constant companion. He was grateful that Mario could speak Elvish, it made the translations easier, though the other man was slightly wary of reading these words because of how little he could actually help. The dialect was so ancient and so faded that what words were legible had to be translated using the elder’s memory, which meant that Manuel had to speak to Jens a lot more often than he was comfortable doing.

It wasn’t that he did not get along with one of the oldest elders that the Elvenkind still had, because he did. It was just that he felt uncomfortable being reminded of his bloodline in the way the others surrounding him would look at him any time he dared enter their presence. Elves were not exclusively distant to him and they were cold to everyone; Manuel knew that and could be like that at times on his own accord. They were not especially singling him out for his peculiarities, but they still would not welcome him as they would of their own kin. Manuel could understand easily why Mario, and all other humans and creatures, could see the elves as cold beings. It was also why he could see himself as neither entirely one of the Elvenkind or one of the humans.

In the five years since he had met Mario, Manuel had made himself return to the world of the elves and had stayed there a long while before he had allowed himself to return back to the human’s capital.

After the battle, he had stayed a day or two to help clean things up the best he could without making any more messes, he had asked Thomas for leave to visit his family. The king, still in shock from whatever events had transpired on top of the Scarlet Tower, had numbly agreed, though he had made Manuel promise to write. Manuel had agreed and then left that very night. He had told no one, save one, about his flight from the capital. Mario knew because Manuel told him. The human, who Manuel had found himself growing an attachment for, didn’t want to let him go. He wanted to at the very least go with him, but Manuel had refused him. Mario had watched him leave the capital as he was forced to stay behind.

Manuel had ridden straight from Ansieál down the West Fork of the river as it moved southward towards Thrush. Just before the city, he had turned right and had gone straight into the woods on the hidden Elven Road that none could find unless you knew of the Elvish magic and could find it. If you didn’t know the way with the aid of magic, the Brundagir would swallow you whole and you would never be found alive again. Many curious men, even some children, had disappeared into the darkness of the trees and had never returned. Manuel had gone straight on the Elven Road without stopping, except briefly to rest his horse.

Two and a half days after he had left the capital, a week after the fall of the Tower, Manuel arrived at the outskirts of the Hidden City. There he had stayed without leaving the boarders of the city for over a year.

Per had welcomed him back into his household with only the slightest of smiles. Jens had requested Manuel to tell him everything of the attack and the magic used during the occupation in Ansieál on his second night back. Manuel had told him everything he had known, which wasn’t much. To his shame, he also confessed about his weakness as he had surrendered to the delicious lies of malice that had created doubt in his mind. He hadn’t meant to speak of that part, really, but he had and now both Per and Jens had reason to think him weaker than they had previously. Manuel wondered if they thought his surrender was frailty because of his human condition, or if they thought he was just a failure in the eyes of their own kind.

For the months that he stayed in the Hidden City, Manuel let himself forget as best he could the events that had led up to the battle and the Tower by remembering the days of his early youth, before he had travelled to King Jürgen’s court in the dying days of the previous Age. He retraced the steps of his younger self and had travelled through the trees in the Brundagir where light could be found, large pools of it that seeped through the trees. He refused to stray into the shadows. He couldn’t bring himself to forget all of what had happened.

Many days he spent just wandering before always returning to Per’s house before the night would fall. He did not find himself excluded in Elven company and especially not after he had remained for several months. He listened more than he spoke, listened to the elves and their conversations about the forest, about their history, and their duties in the care of the forest. Elvenkind were not a race that focused on the future beyond the next several weeks. They had been left by time and place in peace and that was how they intended to stay. Manuel liked the idea of an eternity of peace and he let himself be seduced by that promise, though the human part of his mind nagged and prodded, reminding him that sometimes it was prudent to look into the future and make preparations if needed. He could not silence that human part of him, no matter how much he wished—not for the first time, either—to be entirely elven.

The nights were the worst, even when he had had the most joyous of days. Manuel could never forget what he had done, because he had been conscious throughout the entirety of the witch Klaudia controlling his mind. He had known what he was doing, what he had said. He had known but he could not fight against her; helpless, he had been. Always, he had resented that part of himself that remained human, and he had resented it more in the months that followed the battle. Manuel had convinced himself that had he been entirely elven, he could have resisted the witch and then Miroslav would never have needed to die the way he had. The guilt consumed him, pulling him deeper into the shadows of darkness the way a maelstrom could swallow an entire vessel before plunging it to the bottom of the sea.

Despite this, Manuel had kept his word to his friend, the new king. He had sent his letters. He omitted the parts of his nightmares and simply told Thomas peaceful things, such as the niceness of the birds, and the fresh-smelling calm that could only be found in the scent of earth after a rainstorm. He told Thomas of the salt in the spray of the sea and the call of the gulls as they drifted around the coast at all hours. Manuel would write about the chill as winter came, the ice that began to form in the ocean and how the fishermen were having to stay onshore more because the ice was preventing them from leaving. Manuel would send him tales of Elvenkind in the Ages before the current one. He would write anything he could think of to soothe the king’s mind, because he felt as though his friend could use it. Manuel wasn’t sure what Thomas needed from him, but from what he wrote when he would reply to Manuel’s letters, he definitely needed something. Likely a friend was all the man needed and no more, Manuel had come to the conclusion, but did not ask the man because he didn’t want to cause any embarrassment on the king’s part.

He had had his suspicions of the goings-on between the fallen Wizard and the King, but he had never had proof. Now, now it didn’t matter. Manuel couldn’t let himself forget how easily he had not trusted Miroslav and had let the other man fight off a sorceress on his own, as well as a dragon. He couldn’t let himself forget or forgive. He had loved Miroslav as a student loves their favorite teacher. Miroslav had taught him many things over the decades and Manuel could not ignore how easily he had betrayed him. It had been so easy. Manuel’s shame could never have faded, no matter how much he had wished it could.

 

The rumors spread like wildfire amongst the elves when the human had entered the forest. At first, they had assumed he would overlook them entirely like most humans would. So easy it was to hide in plain sight in front of the human creatures; it truly was as if they were stupid and unobservant. However, the rumors spread like fire when not only did the man find their city, but marched straight through the capital and towards the dwellings in the forest above the cliffs, as if he knew which house exactly he sought. It was not as if humans interacted with elves much at all, never mind strode into one of the hardest to find capitals of the Elven world.

They were in as much a state of shock as an elf could be in.

As Manuel had been when he heard the description of the human that had trespassed into their world.

He had returned from the forest and found Mario awaiting him at Per’s house. Per, like all other elves, had been surprised to see a human in their world, never mind that wished to speak to someone occupying his residence. Manuel could tell his brother had been in such a state when he saw the raised eyebrows and curious gaze that waited for him as he arrived to find the two of them watching one another with a great amount of awkwardness.

“Manu,” Mario had said, relieved to see him. “May we speak?”

Manuel had nodded, ignoring the pet name, and had led the man away from his brother’s prying gaze and they both returned to the forest. They walked in silence for a good stretch of the way; Manuel was too busy trying to recover from being shaken out of the semi-peaceful life he had made in the absence of human life.

“I missed you.” Mario stated softly as they stopped in the forest near a cliff, overlooking the sea below. If Manuel hadn’t known any differently, he would say that Mario had seemed a bit nervous of saying such a thing, as if he wasn’t quite sure if Manuel felt the same way. Still, like the quiet sort of fellow he was, Mario did not ask and Manuel wasn’t exactly forthcoming, having decided to guard his emotions like his elven-side wanted him to. It wasn’t exactly conducive to a good conversation. “We all miss you, really.”

Manuel looked at the man for that with a raised eyebrow. “Who is ‘all’ of you?” 

“Thomas of course, myself, the rest of the company.” Mario shrugged. “You’ve been gone a long while, did you not think you would be missed?”

Mario looked genuinely shocked at that and Manuel shrugged before he turned to overlook the sea. If he counted, he estimated the time of having been around sixteen months since last he had been in the realm of the humans. Sixteen months without seeing anyone that wasn’t an elf. He was almost impressed, almost.

“Manu,” Mario spoke softly, the way one does when speaking to a spooked animal, “please. Return with me to the capital.” Manuel started to shake his head so the other man altered his course. “Okay, then let us go somewhere else. Into the mountains perhaps? I can show you my home instead?”

The half-elf debated it as he watched a seagull drift in the wind. He didn’t have any real desire to return to those Gods-forsaken mountains, especially not with the way the quest had ended. He knew the dragon was gone, taken care of for good, but other things lurked in that wilderness, things that could feed on his shame and fear of his own failure. He suppressed a shudder. The mountains did not appeal to him, but Mario did.

“Where is it you come from?” Manuel asked, not looking over at the other man.

“A small village near Båal.” Mario replied and Manuel relaxed a little. If that was the case then they could travel on more Elven Roads, hidden in the trees, and not have to cross too much of the mountains. So long as they did not slip off a cliff and fall into the sea, the coastal route was the way to go. If he went. Manuel considered it before agreeing with a nod.

He didn’t think he would ever forget the happiness he saw on Mario’s face once he had agreed to go with him. Manuel had said goodbye to his brother, thanked him for his hospitality, and by the next nightfall, both of them had gone northward.

 

For many months thereafter, endless days, they spent together in the northwestern forests, mostly near Båal. Mario had built himself a cabin that was on rain-dampened cliff that was hidden by giant pines. It was small, rustic, but it suited him and Manuel thanked him for sharing it with him.

Manuel wasn’t sure what it was that drew the man to him, what it was that appealed, but regardless of whatever special attraction it was, the bond continued to grow as the weeks grew longer and longer. Even from that remote section of the world, Manuel continued to send his letters to Thomas, though they grew less frequent as he spent more of his time with the tracker from the West.

It had begun slowly, but both surrendered to the natural way of it. They would spend all the day together, talking while they fished in the sea below on nice days, and laying next to one another while they listened to the rain pelt the roof overhead during the nights. They would share a bed, for there was only one in the cabin, but no more would happen beyond that. They would fall asleep with little more than their elbows touching.

They would go hunting together, Mario would show off his impressive skills as Manuel would create a nice dinner for them with whatever Mario had killed. They let nothing go to waste and all of the animal was used with purpose. As the seasons changed and the weather’s inclinations, they developed a fondness for one another. Now, at night, they would sleep while holding hands.

Sometimes they would travel into Båal for supplies, or in rarer circumstances, to Dille for the post or for news from the traders. Little was going on in the world. Taxes were still paid, wars were fought in distant lands, none in Antiá for Gods relief, and people still passed into the Beyond. Life was as it had always been and Manuel found this relaxing. He would send a bundle of letters at a time, receiving the same from the postman in Dille, some had yellowed slightly with age and Manuel would always see Thomas’ familiar writing and he would smile a little. With the days that passed, his heart grew a little bit heavier as he missed his friend just a little more. No one else would write because no one else knew where he had gone, apart from Per and the elves had other ways of communicating than by taking pen to parchment.

The longer Manuel stayed with Mario, the more he let himself be loved and cared for by another living soul, the less guilty he would feel, though it still remained ever-present. Mario made him happy, he could admit this freely, and he realized he was beginning to love the other man. He was finding it hard to think of a life without Mario in it and this frightened him as much as he was intrigued by it. He had never before been in love, never had he really believed the ideology of ‘the One’, but now he could see why others so easily wanted to believe. He could see, for the first time ever, why someone would run out on their family for one person the way his mother had done. Manuel shared his secrets with Mario, Mario in return. Now, they fell asleep holding one another all throughout the night.

As happy as he had found himself, Manuel missed Thomas a little too much. He had suggested they return and Mario agreed. ‘Anything to make you happy,’ he had said. Manuel had lost track of time as they crossed the northern branch of the mountains and headed across the Erovíere. They made sure they were well-stocked with supplies as they headed across the desert and for the Plains. For a few nights, they stopped in Mallé and stayed with the even-greater distant relatives of Manuel’s elven bloodline. From there, they had gone south and arrived at Ansieál nearly two weeks from their departure from Båal.

Thomas had greeted Manuel with a wordless hug when he had first seen him. Manuel was surprised at the gesture and remained so until Thomas had explained. Three years, he had been gone. Three and a half, to be precise. Manuel couldn’t believe it; it certainly hadn’t felt that long, but when he thought about it, he was relieved it had only been three and a half. In some ways, it had felt much longer, particularly when he looked up from the courtyard of the castle and saw the rebuilt tower.

Both he and Mario had stayed with Thomas in the capital for several months, reacquainting themselves with the ways of the human realm. At night when the sound of the castle was still present, though dulled by the quiet of nighttime, Manuel would lay in bed next to his love and miss the smell of pine and fresh air. There was no quiet greater than the peace found in the forest. He had grown to love Båal as much as Mario did. It was nice there, and despite the fact that Thomas and his friends remained in the city, Manuel decided that he would very much like to return home at some point sooner rather than later.

It was on their return trip, in fact, that they had found themselves full circle again in the Hidden City. It was there that Marco had found them and had impressed Manuel with the task of translating a book he had found while on his travels. He would not say from where the book came, only that he needed an ‘expert’ in translation to do him a favor, meaning Manuel and he would owe him one.

“…what are your thoughts?” Mario asked, returning Manuel to the present and he blinked, having realized too late that he had been asked a question. Sheepishly, he looked at Mario who shook his head and repeated himself verbatim. “I said that this passage would need Jens to look at it directly. I can’t make it out and I’ve tried since we sat down. Unless you wanted to try, what are your thoughts?”

Manuel shrugged and he closed his eyes again, enjoying the lethargy of the afternoon too much to move. “I shall take a look at it when we return.”

He almost yawned, so comfortable he was, that he was very tempted to just nap here, under the boughs of the beech trees in the afternoon. Mario seemed to be of an equal opinion, because he shifted away from Manuel, who made a sound of protest.

“Silence, you duck.” Mario scolded lightly and situated himself so that he was laying on Manuel’s side and pulled him close. Manuel still wasn’t sure where the nickname had come from, but it seemed to please Mario to call him this, so he allowed it. “ _Now_ come here.”

Manuel shifted again and let Mario hold him close, hand resuming the petting of Manuel’s hair only now Manuel was resting on the other man’s chest, listening to the sound of his breathing combined with his heartbeat.

He wasn’t sure how long they laid like that because he did end up falling into a doze. He wasn’t sure if Mario had gone with him, only that when they finally did wake properly, they were not alone. Groaning in protest, Manuel sat up when he recognized his brother standing at the edge of the clearing, looking uncomfortable at having interrupted such a moment.

“I bring news for you,” he spoke, uncaring if Mario was still asleep or not when he saw that he had Manuel’s attention. “Your king has summoned you back to Ansieál. It is not a request, a summons.” Per added the last when Manuel opened his mouth to reply. Per then looked between the both of them again before he turned and left the clearing.

Manuel sighed before a powerful yawn overtook him. He shifted so that he looked down and saw his Mario watching him through sleepy, half-open eyes. Mario smiled a little at him and Manuel shook his head. Back to Ansieál it would be. He wondered what Thomas could want that required a summons be sent instead of a request.


	3. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I discovered a new fandom and had to get it semi-out of my system long enough to update lol Another long chapter! \0/ As always, let me know what you think. We're finally going to get this train a-rolling!

It is in the nature of a kind-hearted person to always be so to their fellow being if the situation calls for it, so it was little wonder that Bastian and Lukas were so well received by all that knew them after they returned home to East Milton after the battle in the capital. They had not immediately returned to their quiet village due to their own youthful taste for travelling and the additional days they spent in the capital helping the rebuilding effort and keeping the company of the friends they had so recently made acquaintance with.

Immediately following the funeral, the new king had taken himself for a long walk in the solitude of his own grounds while the others stayed behind to repair and rebuild the castle along with the townspeople who could assist. Lukas worked in silence while they cleared up the debris, while Bastian assisted his brother in looking after the wounded and the ill. Small glances were the only things that Bastian and Lukas exchanged in those hours. There was much cleaning to be done and with the events having turned out the way they had, there was little of anything that anyone could say that would heal more than hurt. Words were not enough; there had been plenty of those the day before at the funeral, praises had been given, songs sung, but it did little to restore the love and hope that only the great wizard himself could have restored.

Thomas had had the finest masons in the kingdom set to work at once to create the perfect tomb for their fallen hero and with the assistance of magic, they had completed it on time. It was a great slab of granite, mostly gray in color but had been polished to reflect the millions of crystals embedded in the surface. Unlike with the ancient kings of Antiá, Thomas had commanded that a simple polished surface be the effigy on Miroslav’s tomb. Therefore, no likeness to the wizard’s face had been carved, no eternal slumbering marble face would ever rest on top of the wizard’s body. Instead, Thomas had ordered elven words be carved into the rock in its place. Largely, to take up a good portion of the giant rectangular rock, Thomas had had the following words commissioned into the stone:

‘ _Here lies the Greatest Wizard of the Realm of any Age, Miroslav the Wise._ ’

Then, smaller, he had had the masons add:

‘ _May a restful peace forever keep you warm in the cold wilds of the Beyond. You will forever be missed here in our hearts where no candle’s light could ever replace the magnitude of your starlight._ ’

Manuel had left the night after the funeral without word to anyone except Thomas, who had informed them all at breakfast the next morning. Bastian noticed the look of hurt on Mario’s face as the huntsman processed the words. He gave him a sympathetic look and then turned his attentions on the breakfast at hand. It was a small meal; none of them had yet to regain their appetites yet.

After a few weeks, the repairs to the Tower were well in order and supervised by Marco and Sebastian. The number of the company had grown superfluous to the needs of the capital. Mats was getting travel-hungry again, Benedikt also because of the alliance that had formed between them. Bastian recognized the signs; they were one another’s One, that much was obvious to anyone with eyes. The pirate and his huntsman could scarcely keep their hands away from one another and in the rare moments they were not touching, their eyes surely met and remained fixed there. Lukas and Bastian had been like that once, and in many ways, they still were.

Bastian had been overlooking the wall at the ship that was still in dock on the Western Fork of the river and he was admiring Mat’s abilities of stealing, er _borrowing_ , ships when Lukas found him there. The other boy wrapped his arms around Bastian’s waist and pressed his chest against Bastian’s back. They leaned close into one another and Bastian felt the warm sun on their skin. Peaceful, this time was now, and he was enjoying it.

“We should probably go home.” Lukas said quietly after a few moments as they both watched the boats in the small marina. Mats had given orders to his makeshift crew to prepare to sail; they were leaving in the morning.

“I feel bad leaving Thomas alone,” Bastian whispered and it was true.

With Manuel, the king’s dearest friend having left three weeks before, and Mario disappeared off after him, the remaining members of the company were shrinking in size from their original number at a quick rate. Where once there had been eleven, now there were eight left, and two of them were leaving in the morning. If Bastian and Lukas left, then there would only be four. He didn’t want Thomas to feel as though he were being abandoned.

“We can tell him he’s welcome to visit us any time. I’m sure he would say the same to us.” Lukas shrugged and squeezed Bastian’s waist. “Don’t be sad for him, he’ll be okay.”

Bastian had his doubts about that. He also scoffed at Lukas’ earlier words. “Because the king will come to our small village for holiday. He wouldn’t set foot in our town unless he was dying and needed to be pestered by small-minded—”

Lukas _tsk_ ’d, and Bastian muttered a quick apology that he didn’t mean.

“You’re getting grumpy in your old age.” Lukas teased and Bastian stepped lightly on his foot, earning a hiss.

“As if you can speak of such things, Lukas!” Bastian shook his head and removed his heel from the top of Lukas’ foot. He really hadn’t applied much pressure at all, just enough to remind Lukas who he was speaking to. “And it’s true. They are small-minded. They dislike outsiders unlike us.”

“I know it to be true.” Lukas hummed an agreement.

“Still, I _suppose_ we could extend the invitation for him to dine with us whenever he is able to.” Bastian nodded, the idea settling more firmly in his mind as he did so. Of course what he meant, and what Lukas read into, was the fact that their ‘invitation’ would be more or less a demand for his company, regardless if he wished to give it or not. It would be their way of checking up on him.

Lukas hugged his boyfriend closer and enjoyed the closeness and smell of sunshine that Bastian always seemed to have about him. He loved the man more than anyone had a right to love anything. There was no place in the world that he could be happier unless it was with Bastian by his side.

 

They left the next morning with Mats and Benedikt and the pirate crew. Thomas had given them their blessing to return to their home and had promised to consider their kind offer of dinner. At subtle pressing from Bastian, he had agreed to have dinner on their first invitation when they had arrived home and kept their house for a while before he would arrive. Pleased, Bastian and Lukas had bought passage on the pirate’s ship with a few hugs and a good joke or two.

“Sure we can’t tempt you to come further?” Mats asked with a beaming grin as he gave the order to begin preparations to have the ship dock in the river and a dinghy carry Bastian and Lukas to the marina at Thrush.

“You could tempt us, indeed!” Bastian agreed happily but Lukas intervened rather sharpish.

“But we won’t delay you and your wonderful Benedikt any longer. Will we Basti?” Lukas asked, nudging his lover in the side. A small sigh of disappointment escaped and he nodded his agreement to Lukas.

“Well, there will be time aplenty for future adventures.” Benedikt replied softly and ruffled Bastian’s hair with the promise that they would in fact return and take Bastian and Lukas on another adventure, this time over the sea and not by land. Bastian perked up at that and Benedikt grinned.

Once at the dock, Bastian turned and scowled at Lukas. “What are you so quick to be home for anyway? Don’t you want to see the ocean again?”

“Of course I do! It’s just,” Lukas shifted awkwardly out of the way of a dockworker before he continued. “I just want to get home, you know? There’s some stuff I want to do that I want to be home for.”

“Some ‘stuff’?” Bastian asked skeptically. They made their way off the docks because they were far too much in the way than out of it, and they started on the road that headed west, back towards their village a few days’ walk away. Lukas hummed agreement and Bastian had to ask. “Some stuff like what?”

“Can’t you just trust me and wait?” Lukas asked and Bastian sighed before nodding.

“I suppose I can. Though once we arrive and step foot over that threshold, you are going to tell me what’s going on.” Bastian shared a look with Lukas and the other boy agreed.

“Thank you, Basti.”

For three days they walked at a leisurely pace down the Western Road. None of this road they recalled before, having never gone east towards Thrush before. They had had no need in East Milton. At home, traders came to them, not the other way round, and the villagers had no need for the eastern rivers or the sea beyond. Small-town farmers was all they were who traded their wheat and other crops for coins and goods. It was a simple life for a simple people, and the villagers of East Milton were exceptionally good at such an existence. They had done it for over seven hundred years.

Sat comfortably on the road to the Western Mountains, or beyond if you preferred the Northern Road through the Erovíere Desert and into the wilds of the Otherlands, East Milton rested half on the north side of the road and half on the south, while the Western Road divided the town straight in the middle. To the south, the new forest of the Brundagir grew strong and thick with the beech and oak trees that mixed with the older pines of the forest. To the north, the plains of Adoras stretched across the horizons, endless if you were standing in the middle of the grasslands.

East Milton had been founded by the humans in the middle-to-end of the Iron Age who had left the chaotic capital of Ansieál and had sought a more peaceful existence in the west. For the most part, they were left undisturbed, having only had to fight a few battles of their own against a goblin army and a few wargs with orks in tow. They had had support of the King’s army then, and the magic of a wizard to aid them. But that had been an Age ago. As the peace continued, they had forgotten the necessity of magic and the great tales of heroes from long ago. They grew suspicious of outsiders, except for the tradesmen that came through, but they were familiar after a while, so they were no longer outsiders. No one was quite sure where this distrustful nature came from or how it started, but it had been the way of things since as long as anyone could remember. Few had the exceptional interest in travel, adventure; and Bastian and Lukas had both been two such boys with the same desire, which was an oddity of their time. The tale of the two boys before their joining of the great quest the year before is hardly noteworthy, apart from a few minor exceptions in the case of Bastian.

Lukas had been raised in a small cottage just outside of town on the plains side and his mother and father doted on him and indulged him the way parents do when they only have one child. Lukas was not necessarily a bright student when it came to his lessons, but he was athletic and made an exceptional farmer; he had a way with the crops that brought them to a bountiful harvest year after year. He had a talent for sport and a childishness that yearned to make everyone around him happiest by laughing, whether it was at a foolish joke he had made or an antic he had performed.

Bastian and his family, on the other hand, had been less welcome in the village. The Schweinsteiger family was an odd bunch. For a start, they lived on the forest side of the town, and any one who lives on the side of the mighty Brundagir in East Milton runs more of a risk for oddities than those who live on the plains’ side (that is what the story is, at any rate). Besides the side of town on which they lived, the Schweinsteigers were always kind and hardly raised their voices. They did not brawl, they did not shout. They hardly caused any trouble whatsoever. This would have been bad enough had the eldest Schweinsteiger son not started speaking to the fairies when he was barely more than a toddler.

The toddler Tobias Schweinsteiger, having just learned how to walk, would go along with his mother who had to do the washing in the stream just outside of town. While she worked in the cold water, he would wander in the grasses and along the saplings of trees that just rested on the outside of the forest. His mother would always make sure to keep an eye on him, but Tobias would still skip along the edge of the ancient forest. There, he would speak to the fairies and they would speak back.

Sensing his potential, his parents had taken him to the capital when the speaking with fairies had escalated to walking in the backyard with his ‘special friends’ that none could see except for Tobias. With their second child on the way, they had taken Tobias to Ansieál where somehow Miroslav the Wise had found him worthy enough to be taken as his pupil. The honor was great in Ansieál, but had not carried as much privilege in East Milton. The Schweinsteiger’s were forever marred by the fact that they were unusual. So when Bastian showed traits of following in his brother’s footsteps with his exceptional sweetness, his kindness, and his desire to travel and roam, the family was consigned to being the town’s eccentrics and were well avoided by many.

All, that was, except for the Podolski family.

The only son had taken a shine to the youngest Schweinsteiger and they had adopted one another as the most dearest of friends. They grew inseparable and became the best of friends. Bastian no longer cared what the others thought of him because he had a friend in whom he could faithfully rely, and Lukas finally had someone that could encourage and keep up with his mischief. The two became the terror of their schoolroom teachers and the wanderers of the plains nearby and the forest beyond the initial border. None could scout the land near East Milton better than those two boys, whether it be in the fields or in the trees.

It was with ease then that they arrived home almost ten months after having left it previously. They were stared at as they walked through the main street, hand in hand and swinging along together, but they did not care. They walked right up to Bastian’s house and inside the door as if they had simply gone on an errand instead of travelling off with strangers that had come into the pub one night. The whispers and rumors, which had died off considerably since no new information had been given in so long, stirred anew and spread faster than a fire in the town.

Bastian put his travelling pack down on the ground and took a deep breath of his familial home that had sat empty in his absence. His parents had passed a few years before and with Tobias gone, Bastian had taken over the house. Of course, Lukas had stayed over quite a bit in the meanwhile, when he wasn’t staying at home with his parents. As Bastian looked around the dwelling now, he felt a pang of sadness at knowing his entire family wouldn’t be there to welcome him home, but that could not be helped. One day he would get to Valhalla and see his parents again. Perhaps Lukas too, if the devil didn’t get himself sent elsewhere for his tricks.

Dust motes swam in the sunlight that came through half-open draperies. The air was stale and the entire place was in need of a good cleaning. There would be time enough for that later. Bastian moved into several rooms with the largest windows and performed the same gesture to all of them: he pulled the drapes back, blinked at the sunlight that came pouring in, and opened the windows to let in some fresh air. Lukas, having seen what he was up to, followed suit and soon there was a nice breeze moving through the house, loosening up the stuffy air and providing a nice cooling burst of air to renew their surroundings.

“Basti…” Lukas started as they sat together on the sofa in the room with the best breeze, the drawing room.

“Hmm?” He asked, leaning close to Lukas and enjoying just being able to sit still for a while in his own home.

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for quite a while.” Lukas started slowly and Bastian raised an eyebrow. Lukas never thought about anything, especially not about questions that he needed to ask Bastian. Lukas shifted on the sofa and pulled a small silver band from his pocket and left it in his palm as he looked at Bastian. “I’ve had it with me for ages. Anyway…I love you more than I love my own life and I know you feel the same way. I never want to be away from your side, whether I’m ill or mad at you, I love you Bastian. Shall we be together forever, properly?”

Bastian looked at the ring in Lukas’ hand and he swallowed hard. He glanced at Lukas, a smile tugging on his lips. “Who knew you could be so good with words?” Lukas blinked and Bastian laughed before pulling him into a hug, careful not to lose the ring that Lukas so preciously had carried for so long. “Of course I will. Of course, of course!”

Lukas grinned brightly and slid the ring onto Bastian’s finger before he kissed him soundly on the lips. They continued to kiss one another long into the afternoon, uncaring of those who came to call on them in wake of their arrival. When they finally broke apart, the sun was setting and a chill had crept into the room, reminding them that summer wouldn’t last forever. Still, they stayed close to one another on the sofa and Bastian had never felt happier.

“I have a very important question for you,” Bastian started and Lukas raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Which is better: Bastian Podolski, or Lukas Schweinsteiger?”

The sound of Lukas’ laughter carried on the breeze.

\---

Bastian dusted around some of the portraits that were hanging in the hallway of their new house that had been built next door to where his parents’ cottage had been. The change had done them well, they now had room to expand and they had needed it, as it turned out. The very reason as to why, skipped in from the garden carrying a basket full of freshly picked flowers.

“Papa, look what the fairies helped me find!” The girl, around the age of four of Bastian’s reckoning, beamed up at him and he smiled, moving over to her at once.

He looked in the basket and saw fresh wildflowers, along with a few herbs that would come in handy for their supper. He smiled proudly at his and Lukas’ adopted-daughter and took the basket from her hands carefully while also he slid an arm around her waist and picked her up effortlessly. Giggling, the girl wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her into the kitchen.

“Wonderful work, Alke.” He kissed her cheek and she smiled brightly at him. “Where’s papa?”

“Outside still, with the ponies. He said he would be in soon.” She replied softly and snuggled close into the crook of Bastian’s neck. Bastian nodded absently as he set the basket down on the counter and held their daughter closer.

He had found her three and a half years ago, less than four months after his wedding to Lukas, when she had been just a babe that had been left in the forest. He could not imagine the monster that would leave such a beautiful child in the forest and had brought her home at once. Through several petitions to the magistrate, he and Lukas had been allowed to keep her under the condition that should any family member come calling for her and could prove their relations, that they would have to relinquish her to their care. Bastian and Lukas had reluctantly agreed, but a vow was a vow. These years later, no one had ever come asking nor looking for a girl with raven hair, big green eyes, and soft pink lips. Basti and Lukas had never been disappointed by such a fact, for they loved her as if she were there own.

“Papa, you’re getting _that_ look again.” She whined and Bastian smiled softly and kissed her scowling expression on her nose.

“My apologies, my love.” He squeezed her and set her on the counter. “Help me with dinner?” He asked and she nodded, forgiving him for his sentimental thoughts.

As Alke had said, Lukas returned almost an hour later only he was not empty-handed when he returned. Bastian turned away from the stove when he heard Lukas enter and then saw a few envelopes in his hand.

“Anything good?” He asked while carrying over a few plates for the table settings while Alke followed with the silverware.

Lukas held up a single solitary envelope that appeared with a golden seal stamped on the back of it. “Just this.”

Bastian raised his eyebrow. Usually Thomas’ letters were more informal than that; he recognized the stamp at once. “What does he want?”

Alke wove her way around her fathers and carried the mugs they would use for tea over to the table while Lukas handed over the unopened official document for Bastian to read. The other man took and opened the envelope, his eyes scanning the words quickly.

“It’s a summons.” He said softly before repeating himself louder when Lukas appeared not to have heard him. “What in Antiá could Thomas need a summons for? All he has to do is _ask_ …”

Bastian shook his head and then handed the letter off to Lukas before going to get the rest of dinner sorted. Alke took her seat at the table and looked expectantly for the mutton stew to be brought over to the table. Lukas helped what little he could while he thought about the possibilities for being summoned to court.

“Papa, what’s a summons?” Alke asked as Bastian set the steaming pot on the pad to protect the linen and table from being burned.

“It’s when a king asks someone to come see him.” Lukas replied while the two men took their seats for dinner.

“You’re going to see Uncle Thomas!? Can I go too?!” Excitement overtook Alke’s face and Bastian smiled, but shook his head.

“You have your lessons, sweetheart. And besides, I’m sure it isn’t anything that important.” His thoughts and glance to Lukas betrayed his words. They both knew that if Thomas had taken the time out of his day to _summon_ them with the royal seal, it wasn’t only prudently important but it was probably critical.

“I think you should go,” Lukas said after they had started their supper. “You’ll be back soon enough and besides, I need to look after the farm and our beloved.”

They both looked to Alke, Lukas made a silly face and Bastian regarded her with supreme fondness. Alke pouted at Bastian and then giggled at Lukas, earning him to grin.

“Very well. And I shall see if I can’t return with any presents for my two loves.” Bastian replied, earning Alke’s delight once again. He shook his head and continued to eat the stew.

Try as he might to focus on the dinner conversation and listening to what the fairies and Alke had gotten up to, Bastian couldn’t help but wonder what was so pressing that Thomas needed to summon him for.


	4. A Pirate and A Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! D: Omg!!!! Enjoy! And may I suggest listening to something like [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AnHXRyabx2A) while reading the first part of this chapter anyway…*innocent look*

“I really hate you when you do things like this!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d believe you if you hadn’t said it like fifteen— _Ugh!_ —or twenty times at this point.”

“Maybe you should take the fact that— _Fuck you, asshole!_ —I keep saying it as proof that you should— _ouch!_ —probably stop getting us— _damn!_ —into these kinds of situations!”

Mats could only grin at Benedikt from where he was across the room, currently engaged in a swordfight with what he could only describe as a man, though that was considerably questioning the man’s honor by calling him that. He refocused on his opponent and kept his footwork in time with the other man. Where he was more skillful with a blade, the brute opposite him was more bulky and could land a harder blow.

Benedikt was lighter on his feet, but not quite as matched with a sword. He was better at distance fighting and always had been, however, he had learned a thing or two on _The Poisoned Hades_ and was now testing himself once again.

“You love these situations, love. Don’t lie to me.” Mats returned his quip and his parry in turn, as he turned and used what was available in the storage room to him.

He threw a huge weight of rope at the man in front of him, before looping it around the other man’s neck and pulled hard before he used the man’s bulk to spin him right into a support beam, knocking him out cold. Mats then quickly moved across the room and dispatched Benedikt’s attacker before stealing a kiss for his own from his love. Benedikt pushed him away after a moment and glared, though it wasn’t a look he could maintain.

“Now what, _Nightwind_?” Benedikt asked skeptically with crossed arms.

Mats looked around the hold of the ship they were being kept in. The footsteps of more guards from above coming down the steps meant that they would soon be upon them. They needed to get out of the hold, _fast_.

He looked around the storage room that was where they had been kept under lock and key for the better part of a morning with only two guards. That had been a mistake, as the two men lying passed out on the floor could attest. Mats looked at the materials available and then at Benny, and then back to the supplies before returning back to Benny. He grinned and Benedikt could only watch as Mats untangled the large brute of a man from the huge coil of rope.

“What are you—”

“Hold this.” Mats didn’t answer Benedikt’s question, just handed a large section of rope over to him, before he moved them both to stand next to the door and let the rope lay on the floor. Benedikt frowned before his eyes widened and he shook his head.

“Oh, _no_!”

“Oh yes!” Mats grinned and then waited perhaps half a moment before the new guards returned to the room to see what the noise was about. With his hand around the handle of his sword, he and Benedikt waited for the door to the storage room be opened and the three new guards entered, before they lifted the rope from where it rested on the floor and tripped all three of them. Moving quickly, they stepped over the bodies of their captors and ran for it.

“Normal people don’t find themselves in these situations.” Benedikt said as he had to quickly deter another of the crew from giving them away. Mats was busy running down the hall looking out of the open gun ports to fight any of the crewman, not that there were that many, having the ship been docked for most of the afternoon.

“Who ever made the foolish mistake of considering us ‘normal’, my love?” Mats asked without really needing Benedikt to answer. He smiled brightly when he saw what he was looking for out of the portal and moved back over to Benedikt. “Up we go, I think.”

Before Benedikt could protest or even ask, Mats was literally pushing his butt up the stairs onto the deck of the ship that had been holding them. Benedikt breathed in the air deeply once he was on the main deck and Mats was quick behind him. The true pirate took a look around at their surroundings before he grinned, his bravado in full effect at the men staring at the two of them who had just risen from the bowels of the ship.

“Gentlemen, your hospitality leaves much to be desired. Your turn down service is abysmal.” Mats grinned as he, leading Benedikt, moved towards the rail of the ship that had imprisoned them. “We’ll be speaking to the management, have no doubts.”

Benedikt raised his eyebrow. He had a feeling where Mats was going with this and he wasn’t going to like it one bit. The crew of the ship began to advance with their scabbards being drawn. There really wasn’t an alternative option, but still he asked.

“We’re not going to pull a Roverdashium again, are we?” He muttered under his breath. Mats grinned and slid his arm around Benny’s waist.

“Of course we’re doing a Roverdashium. What else were we going to do, a Holgoroth Quay? I think not!”

Benedikt’s groan was left to the wind as Mats pulled them both over the side of the rail and into the sea below. Benedikt barely had enough time to catch a decent breath before Mats had submerged them both and loosened his hold on Benedikt so that the other man could swim unhindered.

For a moment, Benedikt was disoriented underneath the ocean. He wasn’t sure which way to swim, before he saw Mats ahead of him, swimming away from the ship. Pushing off against the underbelly of the vessel, he followed after his lover and considered murdering the bastard for these stupid schemes. It wasn’t the first time that he had had such a thought. Nor had the thought ‘well great, we’re off the ship but all they have to do is set sail and follow us’ crossed his mind for the first time also.

He broke the surface of the sea for air and he gulped it in desperately. Mats was now swimming on the surface, headed towards what, Benedikt didn’t realize until he heard the opening of canon fire. He recognized the sound and blinked the salt water out of his eyes to see _The Poisoned Hades_ on the horizon.

Well there would be no end to Mats’ gloating now.

\---

“I wish you weren’t so selfish sometimes.” Benedikt spoke into the darkness of the cabin as night fell and the _Hades_ was sailing away from the scene of the small scrape they had been in earlier that afternoon. After dismantling the mast of the other ship, they had not been pursued and wouldn’t be for quite a while unless their pursuers found a new ship.

“What do you mean? No one we care about died, did they?” Mats asked from beside him in bed. The entire cabin was in darkness, what little light of the crescent moon there was was hidden behind the numerous clouds. Benedikt sighed at Mats’ words.

“That’s what I mean. Just because no one dies doesn’t mean it isn’t selfish to just jump into danger like that.” Benedikt shifted so that his back was facing Mats.

“You’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry.” Benny returned quickly, too quickly to have been entirely true, and he felt Mats shift from behind. A half-second later, he felt Mats’ arm wrap around his waist and pull him back into the other man’s body. Benny would have protested, he had an idea what Mats was trying to do, but it was a cool night and Mats was a wonderful personal heat source…

“You are.” Mats said and his breath tickled Benedikt’s neck.

“I just wish you could find alternative ways to get what you want than jumping headlong into a sword fight without regard to your companions or your own safety. It’s selfish.” Benedikt said and struggled to keep enough distance between his neck and Mats’ sinful lips.

“I will bear it in mind for the next time I want to reclaim treasure that was stolen from me.” Mats replied and tightened his hold on Benedikt’s waist. “It’s selfish of me to keep you around. You are the only I think who cares what happens to me.”

Benedikt sighed and slumped into Mats’ hold. However, unlike what he expected, Mats didn’t use his surrender immediately. He didn’t even move. He just held Benny the way he had been and didn’t move to kiss him or anything else. Benedikt was surprised; normally, that’s what he did to end arguments.

“I’m sure I am not. You have family, somewhere.”

“Who I have not seen in ages. Regardless, now, in this moment, I think you are the only one who cares.” Mats replied softly and Benedikt shifted then, shifted to face Mats and he took the other man’s face in his hands.

“Don’t say that.” He whispered. He didn’t want to be that important to Mats. He was afraid of the implications that would mean. Silently, he begged for Mats to change the subject or alter what he meant. There had to be someone else, Benedikt reasoned silently. He couldn’t be the only one.

“Well…you’re the only one that I care about anyway so, I guess it’s all right.” Mats said with more cheer in his voice, though it was only marginal. He pulled Benny closer to him and held the blond as tightly as he could. “Where shall we go next, my dear?”

Benedikt shook his head. They were many, many miles from where they had started, from Antiá, and only Mats and his rag-tag crew knew anything about the lands in whose waters they were currently sailing. He had never been this far from home before, nor did he think he ever would be again, unless he was with Mats. These were the Otherlands, the places that few maps could describe with any certainty, the places where monsters lurked in every shadow.

They had been at sea for over four and a half years at this point, travelling the lands and making a good profit for themselves in piracy, though Benedikt was loathe to call himself one now. He hadn’t had a choice, really. When it was Mats entire career and he was a guest aboard the very vessel Mats prized more than anything, Benedikt had had a choice and he choice his One over his morals. Though, he hadn’t stopped trying to get Mats to return to a normal sailor’s career in all that time. Unfortunately, his pleas had fallen to deaf ears. Mats was enjoying himself too much.

A thought occurred to Benedikt then and he spoke before he fully realized what he was asking. Once he had said it, it rang truer to his feelings than anything he had said in a while. He hadn’t realized it, but he had grown homesick.

“I want to go and see Thomas again.”

Mats considered it while running his fingers down Benny’s back slowly and he finally nodded.

“Very well. We can go see our friend again.” Mats kissed Benedikt’s temple. “I will give the course in the morning. For now, sleep.”

Benedikt nodded and stayed closer to the other man. A relief settled in him when Mats had agreed. They would be going home. Good. A break from piracy would be just the thing he needed, and maybe seeing a few normal people would bring Mats around to the idea of a normal life instead of one filled with swords, treasure, and the endless Southern Sea.

\---

Benedikt listened, just like Thomas and the rest of the company that were present at court—Marco and Tobias, every one else was other places—as Mats told the tale of how they had escaped a group of ogres near Ursúac, a favorite story of the pirate’s because it involved a great amount of danger, having been fought on the rocky cliffs of the stronghold of a city in the Otherlands, several thousand miles over the sea away. Mats wrapped up the story, leaving a smile on everyone’s face, and leaned back in his seat once he had concluded.

“Tell me Benedikt,” Thomas said after he had finished laughing. “Tell me how much he embellishes this story and how much is true.”

Benedikt smiled and shook his head. He had heard the tale many times; he had been there for it as well.

“Remarkably, Thomas, it is all true.” Benedikt shook his head while he glanced at Mats, who was watching him with mischievously dark eyes. “Only Mats would be able to fight off a band of ogres, not fall off into the sea, while holding onto the largest ruby you’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t part easily with my treasure.” Mats grinned and Benedikt shook his head. _That was very true, indeed_ , he thought and listened to the others laugh.

“What have you been up to then?” Benedikt asked, changing the subject from their privateering ways to the matters of home. They had heard little from Antiá since they had left. News from the peaceful realm did not travel far beyond its boarders; in the wilds of the Otherlands, a peaceful yet strong kingdom did not concern them much. It was the strength of Antiá and the legends of the days of Iron that kept invaders away. Few had tried to invade and none had succeeded.

“Oh you know, being king and all that.” Marco replied for Thomas, earning a roll of the eyes from the king. “Not fun stuff like it sounds you two have been up to. Although, I did find this book—”

“Books are boring!” Mats scoffed. “Besides, I was talking to the wizard and the king anyway.”

The banter between the group continued through the afternoon, much catching up had to be done, and so it was until a knock sounded on the door and Thomas gave the command for their interrupter to enter. It was Sebastian, the second master of the guard, second only to Marco.

“Ah, Sebastian. What is it?” Thomas asked, relaxed for the first time in ages in the presence of his friends.

Sebastian watched Mats warily. He had never trusted the man. In fact he had chased him down the Great River before, but the pirate always escaped. His mere presence irked him, but the Guardsman ignored it for he had more important news to relay.

“A noble guest has arrived to speak to you, sire. Shall I show him to the throne room?”

“A guest? Who?” Thomas asked, a curious frown taking over his features. What nobles in his court were at present at home, few had remained in court due to the fall holidays. He highly doubted the elves would send anyone; they were self-sufficient and had no real use for the humans of the realm.

“It’s the dwarf, sire.” Sebastian replied with a nonchalant shrug. Thomas’ frown quickly disappeared and he smiled.

“No, not to the throne room. I will receive him here.” Thomas replied and Sebastian watched the group warily, especially Mats, before he bowed his head.

“As you wish, Thomas. I will return in a moment.”

After Sebastian left, Marco spoke. “I wonder what he wants. He hasn’t been around for…” He trailed off as he thought about it. Thomas nodded.

“I know. And we shall find out soon enough, I think.” Thomas replied and in fact it was only another moment longer before Sebastian returned, opening the door and stepping to the side to allow their guest entrance.

Dressed in midnight blue robes that had silver stitching holding in precious gems—likely diamonds, Mats thought—the dwarven king moved into the room and he regarded Thomas politely.

“Philipp, son of Lothar, son of Franz, king of Angûr at your service.” The dwarf made a small bow, a slight bend in recognition of the human’s king, but no more. For he was a king of a long line, probably longer that Thomas’ if one cared to go that far back into the long lives of dwarves, in his own right and he bowed for no one.

Thomas, used to the greeting that Philipp would always bestow once he had arrived stood and moved to shake the dwarf’s hand.

“A pleasure, as always, Philipp. Won’t you join us?” Thomas indicated an empty chair near the fire.

Philipp nodded his thanks and moved over to the place he had been kindly offered and he smiled at the human’s king.

“What can we do for you?” Thomas asked, getting straight to business. He knew the dwarf preferred no small talk over getting to business at hand. Philipp folded his hands in his lap as he looked at the company in the room. He had heard tales of their bravery, the whispers had spread far even after the dragon had fallen and the wizard was gone.

“It is I that came to do you a favor, Thomas.” He started and leaned back in his chair. He regarded the king and his companions for a moment before he smiled and spoke again.

“How would you like to go on an adventure again?”


	5. A Crack in the Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This behemoth of a chapter is completed at last! Thank you so much for your patience. I promise I haven't forgotten about this story. Work just sucks ;-; Anyway...here you go. Much to chew on this time around ;)

Manuel thought it was great luck that he had run into Bastian on the way into the capital. A wonderful coincidence he thought right up until Bastian stated the same thing about coincidences and that he was going to meet Thomas also. A mutual summons? Manuel frowned in concern. Something was up, something important at that. Thomas made requests, not orders. He only summoned people when there was a chance they wouldn't hasten to his side or think he was merely asking and not demanding that they be present. In his entire reign he had only summoned perhaps five people that Manuel was aware of. The seriousness of this action was not lost on either of them and they suddenly felt a wave of nerves cross through them.

"Did you do anything?" Manuel asked as they walked through the streets. Manuel's horse had earlier been handed off to a groom and taken to the royal stables. Bastian had never had a horse to begin with, having walked the entire way from his home in East Milton.

"Of course not! Why, did you?" Bastian asked with a raised eyebrow. Manuel gave him a look that soon had them both laughing at the absurdity of a possibility where either of them might have done something wrong. 

"Can't imagine what he wants then." Manuel stated after they had recovered. The castle was getting closer to them as they walked towards the city gate.

"Maybe he wants to throw a reunion dinner or something?" Bastian suggested. The date of the formation of the original company was moving closer and it could have been likely, given how Thomas had made sure to keep tabs on all of them once they had gone their separate ways.

Manuel discredited the idea quickly. “No. Reminders of…he wouldn’t want to be reminded of that.” Manuel whispered, feeling the guilt of his own actions stirring once again. Five years was time enough to move on, but he would never forget the responsibility for what he had done—rather, _hadn’t_ done—the night the Tower fell.

Bastian gave him a sympathetic look, understanding of what the other man wasn’t saying. The gate of the castle loomed ahead and they walked there in silence. Standing watch was a man that Bastian recalled from his trips to the castle and the battle of five year’s past. Lukasz, he believed the man’s name to be, and he smiled in greeting, though the smile quickly died when he noticed that the guard appeared to be unhappy.

“Greetings there, Piszczu.” Manuel said by way of greeting and stopped near the guard. The blond nodded his welcome and mumbled a reply. “What troubles you? Is it Thomas?”

Bastian glanced between the two. The concern was evident in Manuel’s every expression and his tone. Lukasz shook his head and tried to give them a smile, though it was brief in its appearance.

“No, it’s not the king. Although now that you mention it,” Lukasz trailed off and Manuel frowned more. “You’ll see. He just has a great load on his mind and needs your counsel I believe.”

“Then what makes you look so unhappy?” Manuel asked again, moving closer to maintain a lower tone as there were passersby that were going in and out of the castle. Bastian noticed that patrolling the top of the fortifications overhead was the one called Sebastian, a man who had a sharp eye and someone who Bastian was wary of simply because it was Sebastian who had taken over duty as the head of security for Thomas. Bastian turned his gaze back to Lukasz after a few moments and watched as the guard shrugged.

“Nothing, I’m fine. It’s just something personal.” He attempted to shrug it off and Manuel nodded once before he rested his giant hand on the soldier’s shoulder.

“Very well. If you feel like speaking of it later, you know where I can be found.” Manuel gave him a squeeze before resuming their course back towards the castle. Bastian was quick to follow after him, but only after he had given the one called Piszczu a small hopeful smile, which the guard had only replied to with a nod.

With Sebastian’s watchful gaze on their backs, the two of them crossed under the portcullis and across the stone courtyard. Bastian looked up to the sky and saw a large field of blue, occasionally broken up with a few puffy white clouds. The pennants of Thomas’ royal red, blue, and white standard fluttered on the gentle breeze that came as it had all day. The breeze had been pleasant while Bastian had been walking, but here in the shade next to so many stones, it was chilling and he would be grateful to be inside for a while. He wouldn’t mind sitting down after all that walking, either.

They climbed the wide steps that led into the castle and crossed beyond the threshold into the Great Hall of the castle. Bastian was amazed even now as he looked at the vast elegance of the room. He could not imagine having grown up here, let alone spending one’s whole life in these halls. It was not a bearing he would ever have to carry, he knew, but the idea of it was beyond his reckoning. Perhaps he was a simple soul as Thomas teased him, after all. Perhaps that is all he would ever be; Bastian didn’t mind that. He liked a quiet, peaceful life in the country with his husband and their daughter. He smiled at the thought of them as he followed Manuel and a steward towards the throne room.

The steward stopped them at the delicately carved dark cherry doors that led to the throne room and he gave them a nod before he pushed open the door and stepped back to allow them to go past. Bastian had only ever been in the throne room once before and it had been years ago. He didn’t remember much about the room, the details of it had grown fuzzy with the more important memories and recollections that had taken its place. It was a room for ceremony, he recalled that much, and it was ornate in its detail.

Indeed, looking at it now as he did, he could wonder at how he had forgotten the magnificence of the room.

The floor was cut marble, precisely laid out in a polished pattern that reflected a map of the land of Antiá in its entirety. The map was so precisely lain that even Bastian’s home, small as it was, reflected its exact location in reference to the lands surrounding it. The maker of the map had even added the detail of the Southern Sea in a teal marble as it kissed the deep emerald that represented the Brundagir. Every city or town’s name was chiseled into the stone and had a golden inset to make the name shine above the colors which had been used. In the stone surrounding the country, the masons had changed over to simple black marble, only Antiá maintained any color.

Bastian’s eyes lingered on the map because it was the most interesting thing he could ever see, having never really seen a map before at home because he had had no need. Two names lingered on the forefront of his mind as he looked the map over and he swallowed stiffly when they registered in his mind. In the west, near the mountains, the golden inlay read ‘AVENORE’ and the other read ‘MORLAND’. For a brief moment, Bastian wondered if anyone had ever tried to move back to the ruined villages or if they had agreed exclusively that the horrors those towns, even the ones that were not listed on the map, should never deal with human habitation again.

Across the polished floor, an entire wall was of glass, windows to the outside world to provide light. In the middle of those windows, a door, also made of glass, opened to the balcony. There, the king could stand if he wished to address the crowds of his people below, should the inclination ever arise. In the center of the room, three great columns rose from the floor reaching to the ceiling of the room. On them, a design of vines had been cut into them and amongst the leaves were heroes of tales of the Iron Age and before it; the stories of Antiá, Bastian had been told by Marco once before. In the midst of those three columns, a dais rose in a circle with steps on every side. There, the throne sat plainly enough, if it were not for the intricately carved walnut chair that had elven words mixed with the common tongue across the back of it. Bastian had asked Marco what the elven words meant then, but he had not received an answer. To this day he still didn’t know what they meant; he made a mental note to ask Manuel about them later.

His study of the room was interrupted by the occupant of the throne. Thomas came to attention once he saw both of them and he rose from his throne before Manuel and Bastian could kneel for a greeting. He waved his hand once, dismissing the steward silently, and spoke loudly, voice echoing in the now empty apart from themselves, room.

“There is no time for that.” Thomas came down the steps and stood in front of them.

“What is so urgent?” Manuel asked, seeing the concern on his friend’s face. “You could have just asked—”

Thomas shook his head as he interrupted. “You had to come. I couldn’t make a request and chance that you would delay.”

Thomas did not speak further as the deep cherry doors opened once again, this time admitting only Tobias and Marco, no one else. Bastian’s smile for greeting his brother quickly evaporated when he saw Tobias and Marco with no cheer in their expressions either.

“Any word?” Thomas looked over at them both once they arrived and the door had shut behind them. Tobias shook his head slightly, earning a curse from Thomas. “That is final then. We _must_ act.”

“Pardon me,” Bastian interrupted quietly, “what’s going on?”

“Benedikt and Mats are missing.” Marco supplied, earning a tightened jaw from their king.

“What do you mean ‘missing’?” Manuel asked. “They go off on adventures all the time. You’ve never shown such concern before…”

He looked between the wizard and guardsman and the king. Something was missing here, some crucial information that he did not have. Bastian echoed his confused look.

“Tell them,” Thomas waved his hand, turning away from the group as he began to pace in front of the enormous windows. Manuel and Bastian eyed the wizard and guardsman curiously.

“It started about a while ago now…” Marco started the tale while Tobias sighed and Thomas’ footsteps continued as he didn’t stop his pacing.

\---

“What sort of an adventure?” Thomas asked, regarding the dwarf with a raised eyebrow. The others around him also seemed interested; the presence of dwarves was still new to them. The king of them seemed odder than most people; they just assumed that was a dwarven trait.

“The kind that involves riches beyond your imagining.” Philipp said with a gleam in his eye, a gleam that had been enhanced due to the shadows the firelight was casting off from the fireplace. He pulled from his pocket a gem so large that Mats’ eyes bulged with the thrill of seeing a place where more such precious treasures could be found. Philipp handed the gem over to Thomas and presented it along with the velvet purse that had been holding it.

“I present this gem to you Thomas, son of Gerhard, son of Dieter, king of Antiá in a semblance of eternal peace between our two kingdoms and our peoples.” Philipp spoke as he handed over the large gem, which was in fact more than just one gem. It had been a solid ruby that had also been fashioned with an assortment of diamonds around it. The very sight of it caused Mats to fixate after the thing as if it were the greatest treasure he had ever laid eyes on, and it was. He would need to speak to this dwarven king about where such precious things could be found.

“Thank you.” Thomas replied, taking the stone and looking at it, entranced. He blinked and looked up at the dwarf. “I’m afraid I have nothing so grand in return, except for my abundance of gratitude and hospitality for your stay here.”

“Think nothing of it. It is a gift that I presented to you, you are not required to reciprocate.” Philipp resumed his seat and watched as the human king looked over the object in his hands. A slight look of longing crept into his expression, as if he were reluctant to part with it. “We call that stone there _baraz-dûm_.”

“It has a name?” Benedikt asked curiously, also entranced with the ruby and its diamond accompaniment.

“Yes, all priceless allures have names.” Philipp said as if this were the most obvious thing in all the world.

“While I am pleased for the gift,” Thomas interrupted, “and let me assure you that I most definitely am, that still does not answer my question as to what sort of an adventure you wished to partake on.”

Philipp watched his fellow king with a sharp eye, and he smiled, though his beard was such that it covered the expression so that none of them could see it. “Alas, forgive me. You are correct, I did not explain.”

The others tore their attention away from the stone largely in part by the fact that Thomas placed the gems into the velvet bag that he had been given and held it securely on his lap. He focused his entire attention onto the dwarven lord across from him and waited to have the real purpose behind Philipp’s arrival be explained.

“It has come to my attention that your people know nothing of mine and what little you do know is marred by stories of ancient days’ past. I wish to extend an invitation to you, or some of your countrymen,” Philipp looked at the rest of the assembled company then before he turned back to Thomas, “to join myself in my realm of Angûr for a time, if only so you can learn about dwarves firsthand than in a storybook.”

Thomas kept his expression neutral, though the curiosity was getting the better of him. What harm could be done, he thought, to have a looksee around a dwarven kingdom long thought extinct? It would be, as Philipp had said, an adventure. To delve headfirst into the mysteries surrounding the entire dwarven race that he, like all others, thought to be extinct, what could possibly be the harm?

“And what would we have to do for such an invitation?” He asked, trying to be diplomatic.

Philipp looked affronted at that, his eyebrows rising high on his face. “Nothing of course. It is an invitation, no more. You can see _our_ hospitality then, an exchange of culture, no?”

Thomas, feeling slightly bad for having insulted the dwarf, nodded his agreement. “An exchange of culture, yes, I like it.”

“Very well, then you will come?” Philipp asked as he addressed the king. _Ah, about that_ , Thomas thought as he looked at the company that surrounded him before returning to Philipp.

“I’m afraid I cannot. I must remain here,” Philipp looked as disappointed as Thomas felt. He really had wanted to go see the dwarven Angûr. _If Jürgen were still alive—_ He stopped that thought in its tracks. Jürgen wasn’t here and his uncle wasn’t going to be ever again. “I shall send an assembly in my place, if its agreeable to you?”

Philipp nodded after a moment. “Very well. Who shall join me?”

“I, for one, should happily volunteer my services. My love will also, of course.” Mats said, adding Benedikt with a grin. Benedikt nudged him with his elbow and rolled his eyes. Why was he not surprised that Mats volunteer them?

“Very well, it is settled.” Philipp seemed pleased by this change of events, even though Thomas had his concerns. He wasn’t going to send Benedikt or Mats. Marco or Tobias should have gone, better ambassadors for their culture than a pirate and a huntsman. Oh well, it appeared that Philipp would have no change of plan now. At risk of unsettling his guest further, Thomas nodded his agreement.

“Indeed, it is settled.” He replied and settled back in his chair, fingers tapping the velvet bag that contained the largest ruby he’d ever laid eyes on. Settled, but Thomas would definitely have words with Benedikt about keeping Mats in line while they were gone.

\---

“Are you still in possession of the stone?” Manuel asked once Marco finished the story. Tobias nodded and produced the velvet bag from his robes before he handed it over to Manuel. The half-elf opened it carefully and extracted the stone, very careful not to touch it with his own hands. “What did he call it?”

Tobias answered as best he could, considering his lack of grasp with the dwarven language. “I believe he said it was ‘ _baraz-dûm_ ’, whatever that means.”

Manuel wasn’t well-versed in the language either, so he could not produce an answer for Tobias’ query, but he did look over the stone in his hands. It had a weight to it, much like a gem of it size ought to have, but nothing extraordinary seemed out of place for it. Apart from whence it came. Manuel looked up, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Tobias.

“Do you always keep it with you in your robes?”

Tobias shook his head. “No. Usually it is kept in the vault with other valuables and precious stones of the realm. I brought it here because I suspected you may have wanted to see it for yourself.”

Bastian moved closer to Manuel and looked at the stone also. It truly was as beautiful as Marco’s story had suggested. It was bigger than any rock in the river he had ever seen, with the exception of boulders of course, but it was far more beautiful. Polished so that it was clear and it had been cut with the eye of an expert jeweler, the ruby shone in the natural light that windows allotted. The diamonds shimmered in the same light and Bastian could see why Mats had been so drawn to it.

He blinked when Manuel covered it and placed it back into the velvet satchel and handed it back over to Tobias.

“I think the vault is the best place for it.” He said and Tobias nodded his agreement. Manuel then turned to the king who had stopped pacing, eyes also drawn to the velvet bag. Manuel frowned. “This does not explain your reason for summoning us here.”

Thomas stirred from his thoughts and faced his friend fully. “Pardon me, Manu. Before they left, I made both Benedikt and Mats swear to me that they would stay in contact and write when they arrived, when they were there, and when they were due home.”

“I received the letter of arrival and then no more, until two weeks after. They said they would be on their way home in a few days and that they had much to tell me about the dwarves.”

“And I take it they have not returned?” Bastian asked and Thomas nodded. “Perhaps they were delayed by weather, or maybe they went off on their own again? You know what those two are like…”

Bastian tried for hopeful but he failed.

“They gave their word they would return here first before doing just that. They swore on their honor.” Thomas took a deep breath before continuing. “Besides, that last letter arrived over a month ago. They have not returned.”

“A month?” Manuel asked with a frown. “Have you sent anyone—”

“That’s why you are here.” A voice interrupted them and all of their heads turned to see Sebastian standing at the threshold of the doorway. He entered the room further, closing the door behind himself. Bastian noticed Lukasz had also joined them in the throne room.

“I am not permitted to go,” Thomas replied dryly, words indicating his immense displeasure with the thought of not being allowed to go rescue his friends. “So I am sending you.”

Thomas faced Bastian, then Manuel, and finally Marco before he spoke again. “The three of you I trust to go to Angûr and return with not only yourselves, your lives, but those of Mats and Benedikt also. You are to go posthaste northward and find them and bring them _home_.”

The way Thomas lingered on the word home struck a chord in Bastian’s chest. He could only imagine what it would be like for himself if his Lukas or Alke had disappeared without a trace. He felt his heart twist in his chest. Mats and Benedikt were dear friends; he could imagine how Thomas would be feeling because he felt the concern also. Mats and Benny had to be found, quickly.

“I will go gladly,” Bastian said. “Though I would wish to leave word for my husband first, if you don’t mind?”

Thomas nodded. “Of course. Whatever you need, you leave in the morning.” He looked at Manuel and they nodded to one another. Manuel’s agreement need not be said; of course he would go. “Marco, show them to their rooms please and then ready yourself.”

Marco nodded and led the two newest arrivals to court out of the room. Bastian noticed Marco’s exceptional avoidance of Lukasz as they walked past the guard and he made another note to question that later also. They walked across the marbled floor and out of the large doors into the corridor beyond.

 

Once they were gone, Thomas turned to Tobias and moved closer to him, lowering his voice so that only the wizard could hear.

“I have something I need you to do for me, something that does not involve Angûr or dwarves.” Thomas moved over to the map, his eyes fixated on one point nearby to the northeast between Ansieál and Usher. Tobias followed his eyes and saw where Thomas was looking; he swallowed hard. “Do you think you could do that for me?”

Thomas looked up to Tobias’ face and the other man nodded slowly. “Of course, Thomas. Whatever you need.”

Thomas nodded once and turned away from the map to go back to the throne on the dais. He did not feel very kingly, but this chair was the one with the best armrest in all the land and he had a weary head and needed to think a while.

 

Marco led the pair up a flight of stairs and into the state rooms on the third floor. Each room was nicely decorated and had a great view of the river and the gardens on the grounds of the castle. Light poured into the room as the afternoon sun shone brightly in the sky. Manuel was given the green room, Bastian the blue. As Marco made ready to leave them, he leaned against the doorframe to ask what they would require for their journey.

Bastian sat on the edge of his bed in the blue room while Manuel and Marco discussed it at the door. He eyed a desk in the corner with plenty of writing paper and a fountain pen waiting to be dipped into ink and have words noted down. He was trying to think of what to say when Marco and Manuel’s conversation stirred him back to the present moment.

“…and there was something else he didn’t tell you, I’m surprised to say.” Marco said with a concerned look. “It’s the oddest thing.”

“What is?” Bastian asked, confused for not having followed the conversation from the start.

Marco glanced between both of them. “It’s just that…well, the night after the dwarf and Mats and Benny left, there was a great storm. We felt bad for them, having to travel in such conditions, but that was soon lost to us because of what happened.”

“What _did_ happen?” Manuel asked impatiently as his arms crossed over his chest. He was tired of these riddles and games.

Marco was hesitant before he finally spoke, albeit quietly. “I would rather not say, but I will show you.”

Manuel sighed but nodded. “As you will have it, then. Show me.”

Curious, Bastian scrambled up from the bed and left the staterooms. Marco would say no more when Manuel questioned him apart from ‘wait and see for yourself’. With every step away from the warm corridors of upstairs and towards the Great Hall, Bastian’s curiosity grew.

Finally, they arrived in the hall of the kings and the chill of the air was not lost on Bastian, who shivered. Marco paused a few meters away but pointed to the large rectangular tomb that rested next to that of Jürgen’s.

Manuel boldly stepped forward, rolling his eyes at Marco’s timidity and Bastian followed the giant of a man. They both stopped next to Miroslav’s tomb and Bastian frowned deeply along with Manuel when they saw what Marco had to have been referring to.

Bastian whispered in confusion, “A…crack?”

Manuel did not speak, nor did Marco, for it was there, plain to see for anyone. A large, deep fissured crack had spread across the surface of the tomb. Manuel rested a hand lightly on the granite surface and he closed his eyes, to do what Bastian was unsure. The crack stretched from the ‘v’ in the wizard’s name diagonally down so that it interrupted the pristineness of the words. With startling precision, the crack had only destroyed the words, no other part of the stone. It did not start in one place on the edge of the stone, nor did it terminate at the edge of another. It appeared as if the crack had been slashed mid-stone and had ended also mid-stone. And the crack was deep, several inches thick. No other fissures or cracks spread off the division in the granite and it worried Manuel greatly.

“And it just appeared?” Manuel asked, voice soft with concern. From where they had left him, Marco replied.

“Yes. No one can explain it.”

“It was caused by no human hand.” Manuel said and stood straight again from his examinations. “Magic did this.”

Marco nodded slowly. “As Tobias said.”

Bastian looked at Manuel and was greatly disturbed by the concern on Manuel’s face.

“What does it mean?” Something very much like fear was stirring in him and Bastian didn’t like it in the least. Manuel shook his head.

“I don’t know. I have never seen such a thing before.” The frown stayed on his face and he shivered suddenly. “Let us go from this place and speak again in sunlight. I find myself chilled to the bone here.”

Bastian agreed, the room was oddly cold. Colder than last he remembered it. Marco, all to happy to be leaving, led them from the hall and back towards the courtyard. All the while Manuel was lost in thought as to wondering who had caused the fracture in the stone and why they would have done so.


	6. Lose Your Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried a couple different things with this chapter, mostly a style one, also a new genre of writing that I'm not used to. Hope I pulled off the mood I was going for. I would listen to something like [this](http://8tracks.com/inkyalison/skin-crawlers) while reading. You'll love it, I promise. *nervous laugh* I would also make sure you read with some lights on and not any time at night…… We'll call this the chapter where shit done got real.
> 
> And then I'll leave you with these two cheery quotes before we get started:
> 
> " _Beware the fury of a patient man._ " - John Dryden
> 
> " _Not by wrath, but by laughter do we kill._ " - Friedrich Nietzsche

The breeze stirred the fallen leaves from the trees that rested on the balcony. Thomas had left the door open so that the breeze could come inside and freshen up the study that Jürgen had once called his own. He looked out the open door at the balcony and he was lost in thought, staring off into nothing while the wind stirred the fallen leaves. Marco, Bastian, and Manuel had left that morning; he hoped they found Mats and Benedikt soon.

Theirs was not the only matter he was worried about, however. The other great matter on his mind he had dispatched Tobias to deal with the night before, having more concern for it than Mats and Benedikt at that moment. He had hoped Tobias would’ve returned by this afternoon, but the wizard had not. Thomas grew alarmed.

His eye caught the pages of a letter on his desk and he swallowed hard. He did not like to admit to being afraid, however, this time he could not hide it. He was unsettled greatly by the words that Roman had written him. In shaking hand, the pages had been sent forthwith two days before with ‘URGENT’ written on the front. 

Thomas had read the words so many times at this point that he could practically recall them from memory. He found himself reading the opening lines once again and then reading further, to impress it once more to his memory.

“Your Majesty,

My dear Sire, I write you now as the most honorable of all your fellow soldiers and the most humble claimant to your attentions to the matter in which I am about to transcribe in full to you. Please note that all I entail is the truth and have made no alterations to it from the memories of the events in which I have recalled them. I do apologize for the delay in reporting this to you, but this is the first chance I have had to send word and I pray it finds its way to your hands.

Thomas, let me speak frankly with you, Sire. I am scared. I am terrified. So are my guardsmen. We need assistance, whether it be your wonderful wizard or elven magic, any will do for we are unprepared to handle the enormity of the predicament in which we find ourselves in. The changes started at the beginning of the summer. I should have written to you then; it is forever my shame and sincerest apology that I did not. I made the mistake of thinking I could handle it here without troubling you sire, especially since that cleansing seemed to have worked before.

At the start of the season, the breeze changed, as you know. It would float through the corridors of the prison here and it would be peaceful, a nice change from the stuffiness of winter and the pollen of spring. We opened the windows then to allow much of it as we could that would float through into our fortress. As you know, Joachim as he was known, was in a room with no windows, however, through the door, he was allowed some of this air also. He would sit as close as he could to the door and breathe deeply every day, all day, and into the night. I do not think he slept, though if he did, it was certainly not for long. None of my guardsmen have seen him sleep in weeks, and it has been months since he has slept a partial night. I think, Sire, that this is how the events came to be, but I cannot say. Regardless, it was shortly thereafter that the whispers started.

My guardsmen and myself took great notice that when we would walk down the corridor, particularly that one near where Joachim was kept, the sound of the breeze would float through as normal, but—”

There he had paused and Thomas had had a hard time making out the jerky scrabbles that his penmanship had turned into. After several times of reading it over, Thomas had understood what his warden was trying to say.

“—there would be something else that carried on the wind, a whisper of sorts. We could never describe what it was saying because we were not even sure if we had truly heard anything other than the wind. I heard them myself, Sire. However, I told my men to ignore and go back to work, having blamed it all on the wind. I was wrong to do this. I see that now.

As the nights passed, the whispers would continue, even on nights when there was little to no wind. It always started the same: quietly, as if it were a small child calling from down the hall and it would move impossibly fast past you if you were to walk down the same corridor before disappearing into a wall or a door, always to the same cell. To Joachim’s.

The next event that we took note of was the fact that Joachim’s entire physical body changed. He would stop eating altogether, yet he never appeared to be thinner or larger in size. He would not blink for extended periods, nor would he react when we would speak to him, though at the time this was not unusual. In addition to lost appetite and catatonia, Joachim would go for the longest time without staring at one particular point in the room, in the corner diagonal away from the door. We could not explain it, Sire.

When he finally did begin to speak again after a few weeks, we had all rather preferred he had stayed quiet. His voice had changed. What voice he had had when he arrived was lost and a deeper, more powerful tone carried words. And always he would speak with this glint in his eye, as if he knew mischief we did not. He predicted the death of one of my guard’s children, three days before it happened. The lad was playing as normal by the stream when he had slipped and fell, cracking his head open just as Joachim had said it would come to be. Most of my guardsmen did not want to have anything to do with him at this point, but I ordered them to go about their duties as normal, which they did after much protest.

Joachim, who had lost any recognition to himself by this name, would speak to some that would enter his cell whether it be for food or what have you, and he would read their thoughts. He read mine, Thomas. I don’t mean that he told me I was afraid of him or that I was considering writing to you about this—which I was at the time, I admit it—but he read my memories, my happiest days of childhood and told them to me. Things he could not possibly have known. You know myself, sire. I did not grow up in the capital under his eye as you did. He knew about the time I was playing with my sister and we climbed a tree together and she pushed me out of it; I had forgotten it had even happened. He told me that my mother died on the night of my sister’s birth, screaming for a savior and begging for forgiveness; I only knew this to be true because I overheard my father once describing it to my aunt, having not been there myself the night my sister was born. He knew things about my past that I had either forgotten, was unaware of, or had been alone for. He knew them all Thomas; he could even tell me what clothes I was wearing, if he had wanted for all the detail he knew.

Had his actions and behaviors stopped there, I still think I may have been able to handle it Thomas, but alas they did not. In the past few weeks leading up to last night, more events have taken place and I cannot do it anymore. I fear my own sanity may be compromised at this point but _please_ Thomas, send someone to help us. Do not come yourself, I won’t risk your own safety, but please send someone who can rid us of this evil that haunts us here.”

Upon his first reading of the letter, Thomas would have sent aid immediately then, but there were still several more pages of Roman’s letter and he could not stop himself from reading forward. Already he had concerns for what on earth was going on with Joachim, but he couldn’t believe that something so rare as a possession was taking place, though that’s what he suspected from the start. He had summoned Tobias as he finished reading the letter.

“In the weeks up until last night, Sire, I can only describe the events as they happened. I would not believe them myself had I not seen them with my own eyes. It began on the night of the first full moon of midsummer. My second in command of the ward, Mustafi, and myself were doing a patrol of all the wards. I had taken the one that the ‘Special Guest’—he has referred to himself as for many months and always with an odd laugh and gleam in his eye, I refuse to this day to call him this title, always referring to his name for hope that it will retain some humanity in him, though I doubt there is any left to be saved—resided on. I did my duty as was entrusted to me by your uncle, the Great Jürgen, to make sure that all under my guard were well taken care of, including your uncle’s former advisor, may your uncle rest at peace, Sire. I glanced in to his cell, sire, and I cannot describe what I saw.

His eyes were entirely shrouded in black, though not from the shadow because the torch I carried showed none in his room. His mouth was open, though I saw no teeth for it too was entirely black. But that wasn’t the worst of it Thomas. He was floating, in mid air, with his palms facing me and blood was trickling from them like a spring sheds water, though no puncture wounds marred his skin. There was nothing in his cell that could have caused such an injury anyway. But Thomas, I tell you plainly, he was floating, hovering on his own. What, I ask you, can do that? No mortal man. When he began to laugh, a manic dread-inducing sound, I left, I could not bare to look at him anymore. He whispered after me, but I have buried those words deep in my mind and I pray I never recover those memories.

That was a few weeks past and every night it has escalated over and over until last night. I cannot bear this any longer, Thomas. I cannot do it. You see, last night, Thomas, all of divine providence’s words about Hölle came true. I have no other words for it. We had had a small reprieve, two quiet nights in a row, I dare not know why I had hoped for a third. I should have known something was gravely amiss by this silence. I fear it, whatever _it_ is that has taken hold of Joachim and devoured him has only been growing stronger in its silence.

None of my guardsmen nor I would venture onto the corridor in which he was housed over the past week. We dare not even approach the stairwell to it now, so afraid that we have become. This is no mere paranoia, let me tell you. There is an aura that surrounds those stairs now, a darkness that exudes hatefulness and despair. Last night—”

The handwriting had gotten so shaky it was almost illegible.

“—last night Thomas, we heard singing. We have heard laughter, children or anything else we have heard it all, but never singing. Except, when we listened more, we could not ignore it because it came from everywhere, it was not singing at all but it resembled chanting. It was in a language I have never heard before; no tongue of man, nor elf, and I dare say not even dwarvish if those wretched species still speak in a language at all, could have understand these words. Not only was there these accursed words being chanted over and over again, but the screams resumed, only they were the screams of the prisoners. We had long since moved any on that corridor away from the creature in that cell for their own safety. Only now, all of them were affected. They had their hands clamped over their ears and were screaming to ‘get it out’ over and over; they would listen to no reason, nor would they hear any words of peace or comfort. They had gone mad, Thomas. All of them.

This lasted the entire night. The events did not stop there. For the remaining guardsmen I have in my charge—some have abandoned their post Thomas, but I fear you can see why at this point—we had to endure a night of the most awful sounds. They sounded like the monsters in the olden tales, the creatures of the dark that we use to frighten children. We heard things move from the corridor above, things like beds in the unpadded cells, tables, chairs. Our torches went out because of a strong breeze that swept through the entire building and try as we could, we could not relight them. Believe me Thomas, we tried, no light would catch at all.

Shkodran, Mustafi as I have called him here, then began to speak to me from behind. I turned to face him as did the rest of our comrades and our blood ran cold. ‘Roman’, he said to me and he sounded very frightened. As I faced him I saw why. He was lifting from the ground in front of my very eyes, a dark shadow holding him there. ‘Roman,’ he said again, ‘Roman, I’m so cold. I’m freezing.’ We tried to get him down without touching the black shadow, but it proved difficult. We could hardly touch him at all. Then the onyx cloud swallowed him and hid him from our view. We called out his name to him but he remained silent until the smoky substance finally cleared and there he was, only, it wasn’t him any longer.

Like Joachim, his eyes had gone black along with his mouth which was left wide and gaping open like a fish. From his mouth, tiny lines that resembled tears began to spread, cutting his flesh open and filling it with this black void until he bled blackness.

‘Shkodran?’ I called out to him and then there was that laugh again, that damnable peal of laughter before what had once been my second in command said, and I will never forget it till the day I die, Thomas, he said to me ‘Shkodran’s gone, Roman. And you are next.’

The laughter continued and my fellow guardsmen and I left the room as quickly as we could, not stopping, even after we heard a great thud and Shkodran’s body was dropped from mid-air to the ground. We spent the night outside last night, though I’m not sure that was any better. There was dead silence all throughout the night apart from the wind and the screaming of our inmates that we could still hear even from outside. There was no breeze, no sound of animal life which is strange considering how close we are to the forest. We could not even hear the sound of the stream which runs nearby. I’m afraid our glen has grown accursed though I am also able to tell you that is quite obvious by the events in which I have described.

I am afraid, Thomas. I beg you on my hands and knees, Sire, please. Please send someone here to save us. There is dark magic here that is beyond my comprehension and desire to understand. I fear my life. I fear for my men’s lives. I fear for us all. Please, Thomas. Save us, Sire.

Yours forever as I am able and still breathing,

Roman W.”

Thomas had sent Tobias at once after the meeting with Manuel and Bastian. He had not delayed. Tobias had not returned and Thomas wondered if he should not have sent more accompaniment. He felt a pang of sadness. Miroslav would’ve known what to do. Miro would likely have gone himself to investigate and had returned with a great and wonderful story about how he had saved the day. It was incomprehensible to him that Miroslav should have returned unsuccessfully.

But Miroslav was gone and he would not return. Thomas sighed and then felt a resurgence of anger as well as confusion. The crack in his tomb, this possession of Jogi—was it the same force or was it different? An odd coincidence at the very least if nothing more sinister was afoot. And then there was his missing friends. Three seemingly unrelated events that could not be explained, nor did he have any idea where to begin to find the answers apart from where he had already sent his friends to investigate.

A knock sounded on the door and Thomas stirred from his disturbed thoughts.

“Enter.” He called to the door and watched as Sebastian stepped into the threshold.

“You have a visitor sire, who brings most interesting news.” Sebastian stated after he bowed.

Excitement mingled with relief as he nodded to allow his guest entry. Sebastian stepped back and then Thomas’ emotions dropped to disappointment when he saw it was neither Manuel, Bastian or any of the rest and nor was it Tobias. In fact, Thomas was confused as to why this particular man had even arrived.

“Mario…” Thomas said and hoped he didn’t sound too disappointed or surprised by the other man’s arrival. “What can I do for you?”

He looked at the man who Manuel had made his life’s partner, as well as Benedikt’s best friend since childhood, and noticed that the huntsman appeared to be flushed and out of breath. He also looked concerned, antsy.

“It is not what you can do for me sire, it’s what I can do for you. I bring word of an army headed from the north.”

“An army?” Thomas asked, rising from his chair with a frown.

Mario nodded and took a deep breath of air. “It’s an ork army, with wargs and all, perhaps a few trolls. They march through Erovíere as we speak and are headed here, from my best reckoning.”

Thomas swallowed hard. Now Antiá was being invaded? This was too much.

“How did you come by this knowledge?" he asked, already starting for the throne room and the best map in all the realm. Sebastian and Mario followed at his heels.

“I was patrolling the forest, looking for dinner, as normal. I noticed that the direction of the Fort was a bit louder than normal. I figured a new garrison of soldiers had arrived and would’ve thought no more of it,” Mario said as they entered the throne room, “however, I heard screams so I moved to a better position and I saw them. Thousands of them coming from the north, headed into the desert.”

“I hope the heat ruins their journey,” Thomas said dryly as he looked at the map before him. He looked at Fort Waíte in the north, just past Dille and then looked at the expanse of desert that separated the plains of Adoras from Ansieál. If they crossed the desert, and that was a big if, they would have a week’s journey if they moved fast enough across the plains before they would arrive.

Thomas swallowed hard and he looked to Sebastian. “Send word to the people of our land to muster arms, begin precautionary measures. Rally troops. If an army is on its way, I fear we do not have the time to delay.”

Sebastian nodded and left to carry out his order. Thomas turned to Mario again.

“Tell me everything, their troops and their strength. Show me.” He then stepped back and let Mario point to the locations on the map.


	7. Northward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely loving this chapter, but eh. No cliffhangers in this one! (Though I cannot promise the same for the next few after it ;) ) This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Fira and the lovely eL who ensure my sanity remains intact every evening :)

Three days they had travelled from the castle, headed north beside the Great River which was running the opposite direction they had were headed. At first, Marco had lead the trio on his great warhorse with Manuel and Bastian following behind because the trail was too narrow for them to go three abreast. They crossed the smaller section of the plains of Adoras quickly enough but they had not reached the end of it by nightfall. To Manuel’s reckoning and Marco’s agreement, they still had at least another day in the high-grasses of the Plains before they would near the trees of the small Grénian Forest. They tended their horses and tied them to the trees near the river and settled in for the night. With the winter coming, they had made a fire and kept close to it; a chill lingered in the air and they did not want to catch an illness.

They did not speak much the first night, too tired from sudden travel of a great distance and the concern over their friends. Besides, it was late and they needed their rest before they could set on again in the morning.

Before Marco closed his eyes, he wandered over to his horse, a giant grey that had been his faithful companion since he was a teenager. Marco was found of the gentle hearted gelding, who he had named _Sema_ , which meant ‘champion’ in the old language of elves before they had simplified their speech. Manuel had told him this, when they were both young, and thus Marco had trusted and named the great pony a fitting name. He patted the neck of Sema and smiled a little when the ‘old man of a horse’ as Marco had taken to calling him of late nuzzled his hand. Marco fished a carrot from his pocket that he had taken from the stables in Ansieál and fed it to the gelding.

As he patted his horse, he looked over at the two larger horses that Manuel and Bastian had borrowed from the royal stables. Thomas had given them anything that they would need, including the service of the royal stallions. They were amazing animals, having been bred from the start of the realm to be workhorses, warhorses, and anything that may come to use for soldiers of men.

A common trait in all of the royal horses were that they were large and black in color, rarely were they anything else. They were hard workers and could be somewhat temperamental, but were strong and had excellent abilities of endurance and great feats of strength. They did not frighten easily, which made them excellent in battle, should the need arise. But because of these traits, particularly the color of their breed, meant that Sema stood out more than the others for that reason. Sema was calm in battle and calm overall and rarely spooked or shied from anything. He was a good distance horse, but since he was getting older, Marco had favored him more and wasn’t taking him as far whenever he needed to travel, unless the trip was not very long and he could travel at a leisurely pace. However, this time, Marco wasn’t sure what to expect in the northern mountains. There wasn’t any way he was going without his most precious horse. Marco loved Sema though, one of the few things that he would sorely miss should he ever be parted from him.

Marco gave one last pat to Sema’s neck before he turned to go back to the bundle he had left for himself that consisted of a blanket, a small pillow, and that was all. Manuel was looking to the stars; Marco could tell from the reflection of the firelight in his open eyes. Marco was tempted to ask about Manuel’s well-being, having not seen him so much for the past few years. He was also tempted to ask if he had gotten the chance to read more of the book he had sent, but he figured that could wait until later also. Besides, Marco yawned, they had a few more days’ ride northward before they would arrive at the mountains. They could talk during the trip. Marco settled in for the night and closed his eyes, welcoming sleep to come as soon as she liked to give him the rest he desired.

Bastian heard Marco begin to snore a few minutes after he had laid down. It had been a long while since Bastian had slept on the ground or by a campfire, he reflected as he looked to the stars in the sky. The soft sound of crickets mingled with the nearby sound of the river moving along quietly in the distance and the horses shifting or munching on grass nearby also close-by made him feel drowsy and comfortable despite the hardness of his natural bed. Most of the time when he had had to do it lately it had been because he had been out hunting for the family and would be gone overnight, perhaps two, before he would return with a full bag of either wild bird or sometimes, if he got very lucky, a deer.

As he laid next to the fire, listening to the crackles it gave in its dying light, he thought of them, Lukas and Alke and he felt his heart grow heavy with the sadness he felt of missing them. He wished for a moment that he was at home in his comfortable bed with Lukas beside him and they would be falling asleep just about now, if not already having done so, and they would, undoubtedly, wake up with Alke between them because she would have crawled into bed with them in the middle of the night.

Bastian found himself smiling a little as he closed his eyes and pulled the blanket around himself more. While he missed them, the focus was now finding Mats and Benedikt. He hoped they were both all right and had a rational explanation for their absenteeism. Bastian yawned into the blanket and let himself clear his mind of all thoughts before he, too, went to sleep.

\---

By nightfall of the second day, they had reached the first young saplings of the Grénian Forest, a small copse of trees that separated the Great River from the town of Usher to the East, and the Lake Road to the North. By having travelled the way they had, they had eliminated at least four days of unnecessary travel. Not many went the way they had because not many needed to go to the Northern Mountains, and fewer still needed to go Levium, the last outpost of a human settlement before the mountains. They were a semi-rural folk, having survived for an Age on the fish from the lake and trade with the elves in Mallé and, when they had been there, the dwarves in Báka. The townspeople of Levium had no use for farming, nor desire for anything other than boat-making or fishing.

“We can avoid Levium altogether,” Marco was saying as they unsaddled their horses for the night. “So long as our supplies stay fresh, we shouldn’t have to cross the River.”

Manuel nodded as he checked his own supplies. “I agree. Though if we do get low on a few things, it will have to be necessary to do so.”

Bastian stayed quiet, having started making dinner on another campfire that they had created earlier. The sun was sinking quickly on the horizon and they would rather eat in the final hours of dusk before darkness took over than in total darkness apart from firelight. Bastian stirred the pot, which contained a few scraps of meat of a turkey that they had found earlier and had kept for dinner, and listened to the two soldier’s talk.

He liked listening to them as though he were an equal, having never fought a day in his life except for once, the day the Tower fell. He really hadn’t even fought then. He had Lukas had been quick on their feet and had by-passed most of the fighting when they had found Miroslav at the top of the Tower. He could still recall that day, though he didn’t like to because of all the sadness associated with it, but he could remember having never wielded a sword against another living creature. He liked keeping it that way; he only liked killing when it was absolutely necessary, like for defense which he had never done or to feed his family, which he did often enough but for survival only, not for sport.

He filed away the moments like these, when Manuel and Marco would discuss strategy and swap war stories, just to amuse himself. He believed them when they spoke of the battles they had seen in their youth, but having never seen such conflict, he could only imagine them as fairy stories. To him, they were something so improbable, something so out of the realm of his imagining that they couldn’t possibly be true. Yet, had he not seen the fight for the castle, Bastian would not believe that Marco and Manuel could harm anyone. But they could, they had, and Bastian had to settle himself with that knowledge somehow.

“So how are you?” Manuel asked as they finally joined Bastian by the campfire. The stew was almost done as far as Bastian could tell which was a good thing because he was hungry. Bastian glanced and saw that it was Marco that was who he was speaking to so he stayed silent.

“All right, I guess. Just trying to keep myself busy.” Marco replied with a shrug as he sat down.

Manuel didn’t look at if he appeared to believe him completely and raised his eyebrow. “And how are…things?”

Marco sighed and shrugged. “It’s complicated. Is dinner almost ready?”

Bastian nodded and noticed that he was trying to avoid the subject. He thought he knew what it was about, but wasn’t certain. Manuel seemed to know more than he did so he figured that he would wait to see what the other man discovered. However, Manuel changed the subject again when Marco remained silent.

“How is Thomas? How is he really?” Manuel collected the bowls they would need for dinner and set them next to Bastian’s knee before he sat down across the fire. Bastian looked to Marco for an answer; he was curious of that as well, having seen Thomas only for a few hours during dinner and occasionally longer, but Thomas still would never open up about his thoughts or feelings. Especially not if it related to Miroslav.

“All right, I guess.” Marco shrugged and kept his eyes on the fire and the pot on top of it. “He busies himself with the work of the kingdom, which is admirable.” After a few moments of quiet, Marco added, “he misses Miroslav.”

Bastian and Manuel shared a look before looking expectantly at Marco. When the blond didn’t speak further, Bastian asked beginning to spoon a portion of their dinner into a bowl.

“What do you mean?” Marco shrugged and eagerly took the bowl that Bastian offered him after he had ladled out a portion of their dinner.

“I mean that it’s obvious to anyone who can see Thomas works very hard to not have to think about anything other than kingdom matters. He doesn’t ever speak of the wizard at all if he can help it and he was incredibly distraught when that crack appeared on the tomb.”

Manuel shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the magic that had done that. He frowned in thought as Bastian handed him his bowl.

“Do you think Miroslav was Thomas’ One?” Bastian asked softly, having thought that from the way Thomas reacted to the wizard’s death. They had been close before then, but he hadn’t been sure if it had only been the result of a pupil and a teacher or a family friend or what exactly the nature of their relationship had been. But the way Thomas had reacted, so isolated and mournful even years later, it had to have been a more intimate, personal connection than that may have existed between friends or a mentor.

Bastian’s heart welled with emotion for his friend, his King. They would have been a good match. Thomas had a light heart and good strength of character about him, Miroslav was wise beyond all reckoning and the two of them could have done wonderful things for the kingdom together. It was tragic and sad, Bastian thought, that they had not properly had the chance to accomplish things that they should have been able to do. His heart remained heavy for his friend while the three ate their dinner in silence after that.

When their bellies were full and the comfort of warm food was resting there, Marco spoke again but quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say anything aloud.

“I broke things off with Piszczu.”

Bastian raised an eyebrow; evidently, Manuel knew more about this topic than he did because Manu looked surprised at the news. Bastian only looked confused.

“Why? I thought things were okay?” Manuel asked and Bastian looked at Marco curiously. Piszczu? The soldier from the gate? And _Marco_?

Marco avoided looking at either of them; he refocused his attention on the fire. “Things were all right, I suppose. But I took that trip and then,” Marco shrugged, “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right between us. It feels forced. I said we should take a break; he agreed.”

Something flickered in Manuel’s eyes then, as if something he had heard before suddenly made sense. Bastian was the only one that noticed and Manuel kept it to himself, not bothering to share with the group. Bastian assumed it was something that Lukasz had told him then, otherwise he felt as though Manuel would have shared. Bastian gave a sympathetic look to Marco instead of an inquisitive one to Manuel and gave the Guardsman a small reassuring smile.

“Perhaps that will get your mind clear and sorted out.” Bastian looked hopeful but Marco didn’t meet his enthusiasm when he replied.

“Yeah, maybe.”

They lapsed into silence and Manuel moved first, collecting their bowls to take to the river and wash them along with the pot the stew had been cooked in. While he was gone, Bastian prepared their makeshift beds for the night and Marco went to check on the horses, just as they had all done the same roles the night before.

Shortly, they were all three lying down in their blankets and were listening to the birds chirp softly from the trees, though there were not many of them this late at night. What birds there were sounded an awful lot like owls. Crickets were aplenty and the fire, as always, was their constant companion.

For the second night in a row, Bastian missed his family, but he knew what he was doing was important. He pushed the thoughts of longing out of his mind and instead decided to lighten the mood that had damped their spirits after Marco’s revelation after dinner.

“Manu?”

“Hmm?” The other man grunted from nearby.

“Do you have any good stories about dwarves?” Bastian asked while looking at the stars through the trees overhead.

“Not many.” Manuel replied. “Though I suppose you want me to tell you one for a bedtime story?”

Marco laughed softly and Bastian’s grin could be heard in his voice when he spoke.

“If you would be so kind…You do tell the best stories.”

Manuel was quiet a moment, and for a breathtaking second, Bastian thought the other man may have fallen asleep. However, he heard Manuel clear his throat and then give a sigh.

“Fine, as you like.” Manuel shifted slightly, but didn’t get up. Bastian didn’t either nor did he look over. He closed his eyes and awaited Manu’s story. “There really aren’t many stories of dwarves any more since they disappeared until the short king came back. Most of these stories I know because of my brother and they aren’t very favorable to the dwarven-kind. Most of them have morals and make them out as evil creatures and—”

“Can you stop with the disclaimer and get to the story? I’m trying to fall asleep here, though if you keep up in that voice, I just might.” Marco interrupted and Manuel rolled his eyes while Bastian giggled quietly.

“As I was saying, there’s not many stories, but one I do know is that all of them contain several truths about dwarves that must be true, for why else would they be repeated in everything? Apparently, dwarves have a keen eye, even in the dark and they are a sturdy people so most magic does not faze them much. They are skilled masons and jewelers and an eye for gems that is unmatched by anyone. They consider their precious stones more valuable than any gold or silver you can think of. And, lastly, they are also talented fighters, mostly with swords, that you could know.”

Bastian and Marco listened quietly. To Bastian, this part was even better than a story. He wished Manuel would continue and was delighted when he did.

“Until Philipp came, I did not think they were still known in our world. I feared they had gone to the Beyond—”

“To Velol-whatever that place is called.” Marco corrected.

“Oh, yes. To Velolduhr, I believe is the name. Regardless, I thought them lost to our world. I am curious about Philipp and I was excited by most at that part of the story of Mats and Benedikt. I am greatly curious to learn more about the dwarves.”

At the mention of their friends, the atmosphere shifted and Bastian spoke quietly.

“Do you think we’ll find them?”

It was a very valid question. Not only were they looking for their two friends in a range of mountains that were usually not explored by anyone, but they were looking for a civilization that everyone had considered lost for the better part of an Age. If those before them had not been able to find it, why would they be able to? It was an uncomfortable truth that they did not want to dwell on, but nevertheless it was the reality of their situation.

“Yes.” Marco finally spoke up. “Yes, I daresay we will. If only because it’s Mats and Benedikt and you just _know_ Benny will pull Mats out of their by his ear should anything become unseemly.”

“Yes, and you just know that Mats will have all of his pockets lined with gems from the dwarves as they make their escape.”

Bastian nodded. He could imagine that; he could agree that Mats was like that and that Benedikt would know how to rein him in if needed. He smiled a little and felt more at ease. He settled comfortably into his blankets as he thought about what Manuel had said about dwarves. Something occurred to him then.

“What’s Velol—Velo—whatever you said?” Bastian asked, glancing at Manuel.

“Velolduhr. I don’t know. It’s the dwarven version of the Beyond, I think.” Manuel said. “Ask Marco, he’s the one that made me translate that book. Which, I might add, was not in its entirety.”

“I can’t help it. I found it like that, and be glad I did!” Marco replied defensively before he yawned loudly.

“About that…” Manuel frowned in thought, “where _did_ that book come from, anyway?” Marco didn’t immediately answer which caused Manuel to sit up on one elbow and look expectantly at Marco, who shifted awkwardly.

“I found it?”

“Where?”

“It was…waiting for me, in my rooms along with my other post that day when I was on my travels. It had been sent to me.”

“From whom?” Marco shifted awkwardly again and Manuel sighed impatiently. “From whom!”

“I don’t know! It was just there and I glanced at it and I couldn’t read it, but I figured you could, so I sent part of it to you, and the rest is history.”

Manuel swore under his breath before he looked at Marco incredulously. “A book with words written in it that you don’t know what they mean you sent to me when you don’t even know who gave it to you to begin with? You’re lucky there was no magic associated with it. You could have been killed, or I could have! You didn’t think, Marco. What on earth were you thinking of?”

“I’m sorry! I was a little distracted!”

“By Lukasz?” Marco didn’t answer, confirming Manuel’s suspicions. “You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought of him or felt bad for having ‘taken a break’. He misses you but you won’t even speak to him unless it’s about work.”

“My relationship or lack thereof is none of _your_ business, Manuel.” Marco said, sitting up on his own now. “And I assume he told you all of this because I know I sure as Hölle didn’t!”

“Guys—” Bastian tried to intervene but Manuel spoke over him.

“It’s obvious to see that you two aren’t on the same footing anymore. I don’t understand why though, Marco. You were happy, what changed?”

“I don’t love him anymore, okay?!” Marco shouted and glared at Manuel before color reddened his cheeks and his tone lowered. “I just…I don’t love him anymore.”

Manuel sighed and the fury went out of him. He didn’t often have temper outbursts such as these, but when it came to his friends or his brother, he could not hold such a tight control on his emotions.

“You need to tell him that, then. He still thinks you do and it’s hurting him to see you so distant from him.” Manuel then laid back down while Marco remained silent. Bastian continued to stay sitting upright and looked between the two until he was satisfied they weren’t about to start another fight. He then laid back down and sighed.

“Just get some sleep, guys. We have another long day ahead.” He said quietly and waited until the other two seemed to relax enough to be on their way to sleep before he allowed himself the same luxury of relaxation.

A new mystery took hold in Bastian’s mind as he did so. The new question that he had in his mind was: would they make it to the Northern Mountains and back again with their friendship intact, or would it fall apart like a log in a fire, splintered with embers and seeds of discontent?


	8. The Breath Before the Plunge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eee gads it's been a while since an update D: I'm so sorry! I'm working on it but this chapter would not cooperate with me. Dedicated as always to everyone who reads and especially those who comment on this story, I love you all most dearly ♥ Update for you! :D

Just inside the shadow of the forest, a small creek outside of East Milton wound its way through the trees on the way to a river buried deep inside the forest. The ground was soggy nearby as it was a constant area that became flooded when the creek grew too large for the collar of its banks, which happened often any time there was a decent rainstorm. Croaking quietly in the marshland, a symphony of frogs let their presence be known.

Alke sat on the top of a moss-covered rock with her legs crossed as she rested her elbows on top of them. She had her head balanced on her hands and she was watching the fae dance in front of her on an emerald lily pad while the frogs serenaded them all. The two fairies finished their dance and then turned to bow at their human companion, causing Alke to smile.

She didn’t remember the first time she had been able to speak to the fairies, nor did she remember the first time she had seen them. It had become such a common thing for her to do, that she never questioned it and accepted it as normal. It wasn’t until she had learned from the village’s children that she was the only one that could see them and they considered her ‘strange’ did she ever think there was something unusual about talking to the fae. Uncle Tobias told her she was special for being able to see them when no one else could and he encouraged her to listen to what they had to say. He had winked at her then before he put her on his shoulders and they had gone for a walk in the forest.

Alke liked her uncle. He could see the fae too and he always had a new trick to show her. Already she could create her own ball of light if she was afraid of the dark, and she could move small things with her mind, a handy thing when she would accidentally leave her teddy bear on the other side of the room or downstairs and it was time for bed. Her father, Lukas, had seemed worried about this at first, but Bastian had encouraged her also. He said it was good to practice such a skill and it could possibly come in handy one day. Alke’s only disappointment was that neither of her fathers could see the fae, only she and her Uncle Tobias.

She glanced away from the two fairies for a moment and looked up to the branch of a nearby tree where a lark was singing away. She smiled at the beautiful song while the bees hummed around her. It was a nice enough day, but it was just like the last and would likely be tomorrow. She wanted to see winter again, having only really remembered the one before. She wanted the hot chocolate that Bastian had made along with the infusion of mint that Lukas had added afterwards. She remembered having built a snowman with both of her parents the winter before and she wanted to do it again.

As she thought about it, the forest seemed to grow steadily quieter slowly around her. It happened so gradually she did not notice it, nor likely would she have except for the sound of a rumble in the distance like thunder. She sighed and looked back to the two fairies.

“Well, I have to go in now. Papa would be upset if I stayed out in the rain.” She apologized for having to make a departure, bowing to the fae as she stood up from the rock. She brushed off her dress and started across the soggy ground back towards the house. The sound of the thunder continued in the distance and it drowned out the few remaining of the frogs once she had crossed onto the village side of the creek.

She followed the trail that the deer had carved into the wood and came out a half-mile from her house. She started for the familiar cottage and noticed that all the others had boarded up their windows and their doors were shut. That was odd, considering the warmth of the day and the stuffiness that the lack of breeze would surely bring. She could not understand it.

When she arrived at the small rock fence that surrounded the cottage’s property, Alke saw Lukas come rushing around the side of the house. He looked upset about something as he picked Alke up from the ground. Like the others, their house was also boarded up.

“Thank Gods, I had been looking for you, sweetheart.” Lukas held her close as he carried her up the front two steps into their house.

“What’s going on, papa?” Alke frowned. While her fathers didn’t like her to be out in the bad weather, they had never shut up the whole house before. Not even when their had been what Uncle Thomas had called a tempest had they boarded up the house this way. Lukas didn’t stop once they had gotten inside the house. Instead, he headed down the stairs towards the cellars. Alke shivered; she hated going down there and Lukas knew that.

“We’re just going to play a little game of hide and seek until the storm is over, okay?” Lukas said, trying for cheer, but still Alke could tell something was wrong.

“Okay, but do we have to play it down here?” She asked once Lukas sat her down on the earthen floor of the cellar. He sealed off the upper chamber and slid the lock into place. The sound of the storm was drowned out from here. Alke cast her spell to illuminate the space because it was very dark and there were no lanterns.

“Yes, sweetheart, for the time being we have to be down here.” Lukas said before he turned and faced her again. He moved over to the floor and sat down, leaning against the wall after he had done so. He beckoned her closer and Alke was more than happy to go over and sit in his lap while the storm passed. She snuggled close to him while the ball of her light went to the earthen roof of the cellar and spread a glow around the whole space. Lukas held her close, rubbing her back gently as he hugged her tightly.

“What are we hiding from, papa?” She asked into his shoulder. She felt him momentarily tense before the forced cheery tone answered her.

“The storm, my love. Just the storm.”

She couldn’t see it, with her face pressed into his shoulder, but Lukas’ face showed the first flickers of fear when he thought he hear the sound of the storm growing closer. He, along with the rest of the villagers, knew there had been no gray clouds in the sky, and that the storm was one not of nature’s making. He swallowed hard and hoped the storm of war would pass without breaking on their village.

\---

It was dangerous work, what he was doing, but someone had to do it and there was none better than he. Mario rested flat on his belly on the crest of the hill and overlooked the road below. He had hidden his horse within sprinting distance behind him, but there really was few places to hide except in the tallest of the grasses that surrounded him. The clanking of the ork armor and the heavy footfalls of their steps carried loudly across the plains.

He had seen enough by now to get a good estimate of their size and strength and he slowly crawled backwards before he dared crouch up enough to escape. He wasn’t about to be shot in the back by a skilled archer from the orks size. And this was no domestic treaty-making party either, they were far too heavily armed for that.

Mario crossed the distance that separated him from his horse as quickly as he could while still keeping low. He had made it almost to his steed when a guttural growl sounded from his right. His hand was already on his sword and drawing it out when he saw the dark green colored skin of the ork as its teeth bared in his direction and headed for him. A scout, undoubtedly. And where one was, there were likely to be others nearby.

It spoke in its rough language and Mario knew enough of the Otherlands languages to know the creature didn’t mean him well or good tidings. Perhaps that was less of the language of the mouth and more of the reaction from the beast who was now bearing down on him with malevolence in his walk. Mario rose from his position and took a defensive stance, sword in hand as the creature began to attack him.

Mario was agile on his feet, but the brute of an ork struck with a heavy weight in his arm and he was backing Mario up faster than the human cared to admit. Mario parried well and his footwork was sublime, but the creature had growled and alerted the others nearby, at least that’s what Mario had assumed, and he had to end the fight or make a quick escape before others could join this monster in attacking him.

Lunging sharply, Mario caught the ork in his upper chest area, near his shoulder and the creature squealed sharply in agony, before Mario retracted his blade as quickly as possible. He was almost completely away from the creature before the monster caught Mario’s arm with his own blade. Mario hissed and kicked at the monster, knocking it to the ground, and Mario turned then and scrambled back to his horse. He mounted carefully, favoring his arm, as he swung up onto his horse’s back. Urging his mount into a quick canter, Mario left the wounded ork behind him and he lowered himself over the neck of his horse, not bothering to stop and look behind to see if any more scouts had joined the first, nor did he stop to bind his wound.

He rode quickly along the fields, urging his horse into a steady yet rapid gate. Eventually, the sound of the army faded behind him and Mario lowered himself over the neck of his horse and urged him quicker. There were thousands of the orks in the army. Thomas was likely to be outnumbered without aid and he had to get back in time to warn Thomas to raise such a figure before the orks could beat him to the capital. They were still five days’ away, but that wouldn’t be long for an army if it was determined enough. If they marched through the night, they could be there in three.

He stopped once, near a small creekbank in the meadowland and he looked at his arm. It had grown to throb with a bit of pain and his shirtsleeve was stained red. He grimaced and washed the wound in the creek as best he could before binding it with a piece of torn shirt from the unsoiled sleeve of his other arm. He winced as he pulled the binding tight with his teeth and he remounted his horse to continue on. He had to get back before the army did. He had news to deliver and there was no time to waste for it.

\---

Per inclined his head to his king before he resumed standing at his full height. Jens had politely summoned him to his chambers and Per had gone without protest. The king of elves led the taller elf towards the balcony, overlooking the great Southern Sea and he rested his hands delicately on the marble bannister.

“A great evil has entered our land after a long time of peace.” Jens spoke, eyes fixated on the sea. Per nodded, having heard the whispers from the birds in the trees that very morning on his routine walk. This only confirmed his apprehensions; an unease had settled in his mind.

“The question I am faced with,” Jens spoke again, interrupting Per of his thoughts, “do I let my people stay here, uncertain of the outcome of the human world, and watch as the humans fight the orks, or do I…remove…ourselves from the situation?”

Per was not one to become surprised easily, most elves weren’t brought to such an emotion ever in their lives. However, his mouth did open in astonishment before he quickly closed it and stared at the back of his king’s head. If Jens was to be thinking of what he thought he was thinking of, of travelling to the Beyond, then that would be the start of the mark of the End of Days. It would be unheard of, prophesized of course, but unheard of. No elven lord had ever made such a request, not even in the wars of the Iron Age.

“Are you seeking my council, sire?” Per asked after a moment. He did not want to presume and then overstep his mark.

“No.” Jens replied after a moment and Per was glad he hadn’t spoken out of turn. “What do you think your brother would say?”

Twice in one afternoon Per was surprised, shocked even. His brother? He frowned slightly, his lips barely turning down, and a crease formed across his brow. Manuel’s opinion was hardly thought of around here, never mind sought out, and especially not by the king.

“I would not presume to speak on Manuel’s behalf. I can request him to come speak to you, if you like, sire?” Per offered politely, confused as to why Manuel’s opinion suddenly mattered to the king. He cleared his expression at once when the king turned to face him, a small smile on the elven lord’s face.

“No, that will not be necessary. However, I thank you for the offer.” Jens turned and started to walk back into his chambers, indicating with a slight jerk of his fingers that Per was to follow him. At once, the taller elf did and they walked into the king’s chamber.

Lying on the desk, closed but still recognizable, was the book that Manuel had left behind. Per was not a curious being so he had never asked what was inside it. It was not his concern, having come from the human realm. Such things would not strike interest in many elven minds, no matter the fact it was written in their language. All of the great documents, charters, stories of old were written in the elven tongue. At one time it had been the only language anyone had known until the human’s common speech became the normal way of conversing in their world.

Jens rested his hand on the smoothed wooden surface of his desk near the book as he glanced at Per.

“Do you know what it is that your brother has found himself with here, Per?”

Per shook his head, glancing at the book. It was decayed, falling apart, a mess of a thing, really. He didn’t see why anyone was treating it so specially, but he assumed that Jens would tell him. A moment later, he was right.

“It is a text of our old language, so old I can scarcely read it.” Jens tapped his desk before he moved back over to the window to look over the sea again. Per sensed he was not dismissed yet so he lingered. “It tells of the dwarves, written by an unknown author who appears to have lived amongst them for a long while. It seems to be a journal, a daily record, if you like.”

“But it is incomplete?” Per asked and Jens nodded, still facing the window.

“Yes and I’m afraid I have yet to discover the author of the work. However, there is something more curious about the book itself.”

“Such as?” Per asked, looking over at the object in question. It was simple, unassuming, just a torn up scrap of decaying pages.

“There is a magic that lingers in the remnants of the spine of it. A magic powerful enough to endure for all of this time in strength, yet subtle enough to remain undetected. Who could create such magic, such a binding spell, do you think?” Jens asked rhetorically. Per remained silent as his king turned to face him with a raised eyebrow.

They both could guess the answer. Only a great and truly powerful sorcerer would know of such methods, and there were few that they could think of that had been old enough to have seen dwarves, and fewer still that had been entrusted with their secrets enough to stay with them. Only a powerful magician could conjure such a spell and trust that it would fall into the right hands one day?

Per did not ask what spell the book carried, but suddenly the unassuming brown heap on Jens’ desk looked a lot more intimidating. The unease that weighed his mind down did not dissipate; instead, it grew only stronger.


	9. The Terror of Ebön

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter so soon and it's a long one?! Holy crap, it's like I'm possessed by something. ahaha, ahem. **Don't read it in the dark.** Unless you're crazy, or a glutton for that sort of thing. Don't say I didn't warn you. Also listening to [this](https://soundcloud.com/squall-6/15-vlad-the-third) puts the right kind of mood on ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It was easy to tell the change in the air the closer one arrived nearer to the prison and the castle that housed it. Something was not right, not normal about the air surrounding it. The river seemed darker than downstream; where the water in the south skipped across the rocks and appeared to be so clear it may as well have been glass, here the river had gone black, like ink or the night’s sky and the rocks that made up the riverbed could not be seen at all. The sparse forests on either side of the river that easily could let sunlight filter through were hidden, on both sides, in a thick cover of fog where otherwise it would have been a sunny day.

Tobias had noticed the changes a few miles up the river from Ansieál. He had followed the Western Fork until it had begun to bend to the east again and from there he had taken the road north, towards Usher. He had only been a few miles away from the river’s bend when the mist had begun to shroud the sun. A few miles more and the chill had begun to creep in the air, and it was no seasonal cold either; there was no breeze, but the entire earth around him had grown cold. It was far too early for the first snow of the season, even if it was abnormally early.

With every mile he got closer to the prison, the more unsettled his horse became. And with each passing mile, Tobias noticed the temperature drop more and more, and the fog grew thicker. The sense of dread was growing as well and Tobias could only imagine how Roman and the other guards had been able to stand it so long. He was already uncomfortable and he had yet to arrive; he could only speculate at what it must have been like to repeatedly live in such a surrounding day in and day out every day for the months that Joachim, or whatever Joachim had become, had lived in the prison.

Half-way on the road to Usher, Tobias made the left turn that would take him up the long drive, through a small grove of trees that would lead to the prison. It could not be seen from the road to Usher, but it was seated atop a small hill with a nearby creek that had been somewhat fashioned into the resemblance of a moat. Though the creek was not strong-running unless there had been a great rain, the moat was easily enough to be crossed and it only surrounded three-fourths the side of the prison anyway. However, not many prisoners often escaped Ebön, fewer still would survive to tell the tale. The prison was one of the most fortified with disciplined guards that the land had to over. There were fewer fortresses in all the land that could withstand an attack from the outside better than Ebön could.

Which is why it was all the more important that Tobias get to the bottom of whatever it was that was scaring Roman and the guardsmen so badly.

He had travelled through the night from Ansieál and by the time he arrived at Ebön, the sun should have risen over the rest of the land that was not shrouded in mist. The world had taken on a grayish hue from where the sunlight could not escape past the shield of fog and Tobias had continued, not stopping to wait for it to push through. He rode steadily at a trot through the forest, though his horse was not wanting to go far up the Ebön road much at all. It eventually got to the point where Tobias had to force the creature to continue at all because the horse kept stopping and trying to turn back.

Tobias murmured soothing words in the elvish tongue and that seemed to calm his horse after each incident of the animal being spooked, which were many. Tobias rounded the final left bend in the road and he stopped the horse. He looked as far as he could see but all he could make out was the gate of the fortress. The gate was down and that sense of foreboding he had felt grow the closer he got seemed to be overwhelming him now. He swallowed and calmed himself easily enough before he dismounted.

He rubbed his horse’s neck and listened intently for the sound of anything that Roman had described in his letter. He heard nothing, only silence and the soft gurgle of the creek that was nearby. The smell of rotting decay came from somewhere, but as Tobias analyzed the smell he realized it was just some old leaves that had gotten wet but were no more harmless than a ladybug crawling along your arm. He moved over to a tree and tied off his horse there, leaving enough room for the horse to graze, should it desire, and he soothed it again in elvish before he turned to see if he could find any sign of Roman or the guard.

Something kept him from calling out, however. It did not seem wise nor prudent to make his presence immediately known to the Ebön terror, as Thomas had referred to it when he had been sending Tobias on this errand in the first place. Tobias closed his eyes and meditated for a moment, trying to find a trace of the soldier before he heard a branch snap to his right, behind him. He opened his eyes and saw a small group of men, Roman included, watching him warily. They beckoned him closer and Tobias followed, as quietly as he could. Roman gave him a grateful, relieved look, before leading the way away from Ebön.

They walked for almost a half-mile by Tobias’ reckoning before Roman and the other stopped. They had found a patch of trees where the fog seemed a little less thick somehow.

“You have no idea how pleased I am to see you, sir.” Roman spoke and his tone conveyed exactly that message. His appearance was drawn and gaunt, nothing like the last memory Tobias had of the man at the cleansing for Joachim several months, likely over a year, ago. His eyes were still fearful and untrusting of Tobias’ very presence. “You’re…you’re sure you’re _you_ , right sir?”

Tobias’ head tilted as he looked at the soldier. “What is that supposed to mean, Roman?”

The warden shook his head and swallowed stiffly. “You’ll have to beg my pardon sir. We, that is to say all of us, have seen some very strange things these past few weeks and months. We have heard things, seen things, that none of us can explain, nor care to try and do so.”

Tobias nodded. “I have read the letter you sent Thomas. I am aware of the uh, situation, as it can be described, up there.” Tobias looked vaguely in the direction of the fortress again and he felt unease still dense in the air.

He looked back to Roman and the small company of the guards he had with him. There were four of them. He remembered the mention of his second in command and he renewed his mental purpose for why he was there and what he could do to assist and aid the warden.

“Have there been any changes since you wrote?”

Roman shook his head. “I don’t know. We haven’t gone back inside.”

“We aren’t likely to either.” One of the guardsmen said, eyes determined and set against going back inside the fortress. “Not until whatever that hellish monster is is out of there.”

“Easy, Torsten.” Roman said, resting a gentle hand on the other man’s arm. He then looked warily back at Tobias. “Can you help us?”

Tobias nodded and he felt confident in his actions. “I have a series of tests I need to perform to find out what exactly it is we are dealing with here. I have my ideas, but I need to confirm them. You can’t treat an illness without running a few checks first, can you?”

He looked to the guard Roman had called Torsten and earned the sterner man’s nod of approval before he continued. “I need you to go with me as far as the gate, if only to let me in, Roman. You don’t have to go further than that if you don’t want to.”

“I won’t let you go in alone.” Roman replied, though his voice appeared firmer than his body, who quaked unconsciously. Tobias nodded once and gave him a grateful look.

“Very well then. As for the rest of you, if one of you could make sure my horse stays and does not bolt, I would appreciate it if you could manage it?” Torsten nodded to Tobias.

“We will take care of it.”

The other guards seemed to be more at ease with the news that they would not have to travel back inside their home for a while, at least not while Tobias was nearby and conducting his investigation. They gave a look to Roman and some wished him well and Torsten called him a crazy old man for even thinking about going back in there, but Roman waved them off.

“But first, drink this.”

From his pocket, he produced several vials of a violet colored liquid. The guardsmen raised their eyebrows and Tobias almost rolled his eyes at their skepticism. He could not blame them for being wary at this point, he decided and told them an honest explanation.

“It’s not a poison. It’s created with fennel and angelica and you will be protected against this darkness. It will aid you.”

Warily, they each took a vial and Roman was the first to drink it. Seeing no ill affects on their leader, the rest followed and Tobias gave them a moment to get past the taste before he placed the empty vials back in his robes. He then turned to face back to the fortress.

“I feel a little better, oddly enough.” One of the guard said and Torsten agreed.

“That’s good. You’ll need your strength and wits about you.” Tobias replied before Roman spoke again.

“If we’re going to do this, let’s get it over with. I don’t want to be around that place after dark. Potion or none.” Roman shuddered and Tobias agreed to move out.

The small company of men returned the half-mile back to Ebön and there they separated. Quietly, Tobias turned to face Roman for the final time before the gate.

“You do not have to go back inside unless you want to.”

Roman looked Tobias in the eye. For a moment, the wizard thought the other man would back out and go with his men. Roman’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed before he shook his head once.

“I’ll go with you. I won’t let you go alone.”

Tobias nodded, settling on the other man’s decision. “Very well. But you must remain focused and alert, and do anything I ask of you. Understood?”

Roman nodded and the two shared a look of agreement. It was clear that Roman was not in control of this situation and that Tobias, at least for the meantime, would be giving the orders.

They walked to the immense iron gate and Roman began to have it drawn up. Loudly, the iron hinges creaked as the massive portcullis rose overhead. It was the only sound to be heard; the other guardsmen having already taken the horse away from the fortress and even the sound of the creek had grown mute. Tobias and Roman stepped underneath the gate and started into the depths of the prison, the gravel crunching quietly under their feet as they walked.

Tobias followed Roman, who had insisted on going first, and they walked into the entry hall of the castle. All was quiet and all was still. Tobias kept his senses on full alert as he listened for anything that was not normal. All was well. The sounds of the prisoners shuffling around in their cells could be heard as they made their way through the corridors. They paused on the first set of stairs when Tobias rested his hand on Roman’s arm.

“Show me where Shkodran was last seen.” Tobias whispered and Roman swallowed again, but nodded.

They continued up another flight of stairs before pausing at the landing, this time it was due to Roman’s hesitation to continue. They, by Tobias’ remembrance of the letter and where he had been before, were now only two floors away from Joachim and the corridor in which he haunted. After a moment, Roman seemed to get a grip on himself and pushed ahead, opening the door that led out to the empty hallway. Again, the sound of prisoners could be heard, though there were many fewer ones on this floor.

Tobias made his way to the room where Roman had said they had taken their reprieve and found it empty. He frowned a little, but not nearly as much as Roman had.

“His body is gone.” Roman muttered, looking at the emptied cabinets and opened drawers that were around the room. “He should have been here.”

Tobias looked to where Roman was indicating on the floor, where only a small pile of dust remained. Tobias crouched down a little and touched the powder lightly with his finger before he brought it up to smell it. The distinctive odor crossed his senses and he shook the dust off of his finger as he rose and wiped his hand.

“What is it?” Roman asked, watching the entire interaction.

“Shkodran should have been here, but not if he was possessed by something.” Tobias indicated the dust. “Sulfur.”

“He’s possessed?” Roman asked then shook his head after he realized the obviousness of his question. “I mean, he’s still possessed?”

“Maybe. We will have to find out for sure.” Tobias took a final look around the room. “Well, there is no delaying it, upstairs we must go.”

Roman’s eyes widened a little and he looked as if he wanted to protest. He glanced warily at the staircase that would lead to the level that he dreaded more than any other to go up to.

“Why don’t you go look for Shkodran?” Tobias suggested with a raised eyebrow. Roman frowned in confusion.

“If he’s possessed, what do I do?” Roman asked, fear settling in him again. Tobias dug for a moment in his robes as he spoke.

“Well _if_ he’s possessed still, you should call out to me at once. And if he is, sprinkle some of this on him.” Tobias handed over a small silver flask of something that Roman didn’t know what it was. “You’ll find it most effective should he attack you, though I don’t think you will necessarily have to worry about him for long if you do.”

Roman watched Tobias warily but nodded; the alternative was to go upstairs with him and that was positively the last thing that Roman wanted to do. Finding Shkodran should’ve been easier and, especially if Tobias had given him this potion to protect himself, well, who really had the easier task?

“Though I must warn you, if you do find him, let me know and I will come to you.” Tobias added and Roman nodded. “Don’t approach him if you can help it.”

Roman gave another wary look but agreed and he started out of the room, a death grip on the flask. Tobias watched him go before he turned back to the stairs that rose to the next floor. Bracing himself, he started for them and began to climb up into the next corridor.

Tobias cleared the landing without incident and stood in the doorway of the empty corridor. It was dark, but there were few windows to be found anyway. The silence continued, only unlike on the other floors, there were no other prisoners to move around except for one, and it seemed he was silent. Patiently, Tobias walked down the hallway and he kept himself alert as the sense of dark magic grew to the strongest it had been yet as he neared the door to Joachim’s cell.

He stopped outside of it and looked in and saw, at first, only blackness. Then he noticed the glittering eyes and that’s when he noticed the shape of Joachim’s figure in the shadow.

“Show yourself to me, Joachim.” Tobias commanded with a strong voice and watched the shroud of black begin to dissipate. It was slow-going but eventually the cloak was gone and Joachim remained in the cell alone, except his eyes were a solid black and there was no white of his eyes to be found.

Instantly, several options for what the creature on the other side of the iron bars could be checked themselves off the list. It was no vampire, nor revenant, nor was he a ghost. The odds of it being a demon possessing him grew, but still Tobias would not be so quick to judge. It was clear that whatever had remained of Joachim was now long gone and his body was only serving as a shell to house this entity.

“What is your name?” Tobias asked in the authoritative tone he had used before. A growl sounded from the other side of the door and the cloak of darkness began to resume. “What is your _name_! I command you to tell me.”

A voice that did not belong to Joachim replied. If he had been a lesser man, Tobias would have shivered at the chills that went down his spine.

“ _The one who cannot be controlled_ ,” the voice replied in ancient elvish.

“ _That does not tell me your name._ ” Tobias replied in the same tongue.

The growl continued and Tobias continued to stare-down the creature in the other room. Finally, it conceded, confirming, at least partially, Tobias’ initial thought of it being a demon. More information would be needed, of course, but it fit the symptoms.

“ _I have many names over the years. I was called Ioanihr, once._ ”

Tobias filed the name away for further reflection. It did not strike a chord that he was familiar with. He would have to look into it. He tried to not let it show on his face though.

“ _Release Joachim from this grip you have on him._ ” Tobias spoke again.

A low rumble came from the other side of the door before it changed in tone and became a high-pitched laugh that did send shivers down Tobias’ spine. Glittering, Joachim’s dark eyes regarded the wizard from the other side of the door.

“ _By what right can you banish me, fledgling wizard? You have no power over me. You are not strong enough, nor can you banish me or imprison me. You are untried and…silly._ ” The laugh continued and Tobias gritted his teeth.

“ _I command you to leave his body and return from whence you came!_ ” Tobias tossed a few droplets of the purification water into the cell, causing a sizzling sound to come from where it had touched the edge of the shadow. Another growl came from the room, but nothing else happened. Tobias looked up to where the creature, the demon, had stopped laughing and was now glaring at Tobias with narrowed eyes.

“You cannot banish me, foolish boy.” The thing spoke in the common tongue before it lunged quickly to the edge of the bars. Tobias took a few quick steps back to avoid being caught it its grasp. “You do not have the will nor the way.”

“Release this place from your curse then.” Tobias ordered.

“Why? _I like it here. I am…comfortable, here._ ” The laugh began again as Joachim’s body drifted back a little, but still lingered close to the bars. Tobias did not dare move. From down the corridor he thought he could hear the sing-song of children. He didn’t look over to see if a vision had appeared or not. It was a trick if they were there, no more.

“Comfortable or not, you are not welcome here. Be gone with you, demon spirit Ioanihr.” Tobias sprinkled more of the water near the creature as well as some salt that he had pulled from his pocket also.

The growling continued before it shifted into a long, low wailing scream before the cloud of blackness expanded and burst from behind the bars and into the hallway. Tobias remained steadfast as the cloud surrounded him and whispers asked him for an invitation to come in. He remained resolute and after what seemed like an eternity of bombardment and being squeezed through a vice, the cloud dispersed and the corridor was once again lighter, much the way it had been when Tobias had come before a year ago.

He looked into the cell and saw a catatonic Joachim, collapsed agaist the wall. To his relief, he saw white in Jogi’s eyes again, even if they were looking to the ceiling and saw nothing. Nodding to himself, Tobias placed a sprig of fennel at the doorway to the cell and then turned to go back down the corridor. He felt the tension slowly dissolving but he still knew the battle was not yet over. This was only the break before the real storm could hit. He had some more investigating to do, but it could not be done from here. He didn’t have the materials nor the expertise to answer the questions he had. He needed to see Jens; perhaps the elven lord would have the answers as to the meaning behind Ioanihr’s name.

“Tobias!”

Roman’s voice sounded from, what he guessed to be about three floors below, and Tobias quickened his pace. He took the steps as quickly as possible as he moved towards Roman’s voice. He came out on the second floor and saw that it was empty, he moved down another flight of stairs until he was on the ground floor.

“Where are you?” He called out and Roman’s voice sounded from the inner courtyard near the cloisters.

Tobias hurried outside and saw the soldier still holding the flask as he towered over Shkodran’s body, which was collapsed against a boulder. He did not appear to be dead, nor did he resemble anything other than himself. In fact, he looked as if he was asleep and no more.

Tobias approached slowly, regaining his breath from his quick flight down the steps. Already the sun was brightening the courtyard as the mist began to clear on the breeze that had resumed. In the distance the caw of a raven could be heard. He moved closer to stand next to Roman and watched the other man on the ground in front of them.

“Did you find him like this?” Tobias asked, sensing his aura as he did so. The other man was still alive, if that was some comfort to know.

Roman nodded. “I hadn’t found him inside. I came out here for some fresh air and I saw him from the arcade.” He gestured in the direction that he had been standing in but Tobias didn’t look to see.

“He’s still alive, but only just.” Tobias took the flask from Roman’s hands and coated his fingers in the pure water and flicked it onto the other man’s body. No hissing or any other sound came from the other man, apart from a small groan.

He shifted slowly on the ground and Tobias watched as Shkodran’s eyes opened and he blinked in the sunlight that was no lighting up the gallery. Roman remained where he was and he looked at his second-in-command as he resumed a wakened state. When he shifted to move, Tobias put a hand up to halt his movement and Roman made a fist but stood his ground and did not move further.

“What—what happened?” Mustafi asked, looking up to Roman and then at Tobias. He looked confused, unfocused and he rubbed his head. Groggily, he spoke again. “Roman?”

Tobias knelt near the man on the ground but he did not relax his stance from one where he could jump up quickly if need be. He may have been overly cautious, but he wasn’t going to take any unnecessary changes.

“Drink this, Shkodran,” Tobias spoke softly and handed over a larger vial, one he had not given to Roman or his men, but had specifically brewed for Shkodran, had the man been found alive. Since that was the case, he now offered it to the man, who took it carefully.

“What is it?”

Roman spoke without looking at Tobias, his eyes only concerned and focused on Mustafi.

“Just drink it, lad. Then we can get you settled on your feet again, okay?” He spoke, completely trusting Tobias completely and not questioning that the wizard was going to harm his friend.

Shkodran took the vial and, with a shaking hand, he opened it and began to drink the contents. Once the vial was empty, he began to cough and Tobias stood up again and took a few steps back. He indicated that Roman do the same, and Roman was glad he did because at that moment Mustafi began to cough up a tar-like substance as the coughs wracked his body.

“What in the—what did you give him?” Roman turned on Tobias and his fist tightened again.

Tobias did not look at him, only focused on Shkodran on the ground.

“Relax. That vial would have killed him if he were any less than human.”

“Relax? You just threatened to kill him!” Roman’s nostrils flared with anger and he lifted his fist to hit Tobias. Tobias caught the man’s fist before it could connect with his face and he finally looked at the guard then.

“If he were _less than_ human, he would have died. Since he didn’t, then you can see that was not the case. He is still alive. What he is coughing up now, is his body ridding itself of the demon that had its hold on him.” Tobias maintained eye contact with Roman for another long while before he slowly released the other man’s fist. “You may sit with him now.” 

Roman reluctantly nodded but took a step back to sit with Shkodran, who was now dry-heaving, but no longer coughing anything up. Tobias shook his head and looked to the sky. The blue of the autumn sky was stretching overhead and it appeared as if nothing had ever been amiss. As he brought his gaze back down from the sky, he caught himself looking to the fifth story window where he knew Joachim to be. He paused for a moment when he saw something against the bars. It appeared to be a skeletal hand and a skull with blacked out places for eyes before it disappeared, and for a moment Tobias wondered if he had seen it at all.

He shook his head and refocused on the pair at his feet. Roman was helping Shkodran to stand.

“Thank you, for curing this place of its disease.” Roman replied thankfully.

Tobias didn’t have it in him to tell him that the worst was not yet over, that more still needed to be done. _This was only the beginning_ , he thought but he shook his head.

“Be ever on your guard, Roman. And also especially to you, Shkodran.” Tobias replied. “I will have a brew of that potion sent up to you. Make sure to consume it daily. I will also do a purification again before I leave. I must do so with haste though. I need information. This is not over.” He added at the end, staring Roman in the eye.

“Will it be as bad as it was?” He asked, swallowing again.

“I pray for us all that it will not be. However, I need more information as I said. No one is to be left alone in Joachim’s presence for any length of time. Make sure you consume some potion before you see him also. Just to keep yourselves safe,” he added again and looked to the sky again, closing his eyes as he felt the sun on his face.

“Let’s get you somewhere to rest,” Roman spoke to Shkodran as he carefully led the other man back towards the gallery.

Tobias listened to them go before he finally opened his eyes again. He needed to get to Indéne quickly. But he could not be frivolous in his protection of this place, either. Ioanihr would come back for Joachim, that much was clear. When or how was only a matter of detail. Tobias moved to follow Roman. He would send off a letter to Thomas explaining what happened and then he would do as he had told Roman and begin the in-depth cleansing of the prison. At once he would be off, using his teleportation skills to Indéne at once.

With his plan in mind, Tobias entered the gallery as the sound of birds began to chirp beyond Ebön’s walls.


	10. An Ill Wind Blows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try my very hardest to get this fic done before the first of November because that's NaNo month and I'm debating on if I'm going to participate and if I do, what it would be ~~I was thinking of a third part to this verse, but we'll see~~. So that means more updates for you guys on a faster pace and here is the beginning of that!
> 
> I hope you like it, though it has a few angsty moments. And by a few, I mean a lot, and they're pretty much the whole chapter. Of course, it's me, so what do you really expect? ;) Dedicated to the three lovelies who I adore and speak to on a daily basis: My Queen, Eliza; my heroine, Elma; and my court jester and the most honorable, Fira.

Thomas stared at the marble floor as he looked at the map. He had familiarized himself with every aspect of his country many years ago, but looking at it now, he wasn’t sure how well he truly knew the ground. He was second-guessing himself and his ability. He was a barely-tried ruler with no great war experience to fall back on. The man who was his chief military advisor had similar experience, although at least Sebastian had travelled abroad and had been engaged in a few minor skirmishes. This knowledge was of some comfort, but not much because Thomas knew they were outmatched skill-wise.

He sat on his throne, staring at the map on the floor and his lips protruded in a great frowning pout. He was nearing exhaustion, having not slept for days and not slept well for a week or more. The creases on his forehead were beginning to deepen as he considered what to do. Finally pushing himself off from his throne, he started down the dais and ignored Sebastian who had been speaking about defensive measures of the city. Sebastian paused mid-sentence and started to follow Thomas out of the hall, but Thomas raised his arm to stop him.

“I will be alone a while.” He replied without turning back and left the throne room.

Outside the walls of the castle, the clamor of his people packing up as many of their possessions that they thought they would need rang loud and was an unsettling reminder of the urgency of a choice. He wondered for a moment what he would take if he should have had to go also. He wasn’t leaving, of course—a king such as he would die defending his throne, literally if he must—but he wondered what he would have taken if he’d been forced out.

He had given the order to begin to leave, especially the women and the children, but also the elderly and the unable to fight. He was going to send them east, towards Robert’s lands in Vasha and over the hills of Carda to protect them all. The southeast would be the best, he had decided with Sebastian’s agreement. It would be as far from fighting as you could get and, if it proved necessary, with the bridges to the West burning should they fail in defending Ansieál, then the remaining survivors of Antiá would flee in the boats that would await them on the coast near the Bay of Egís, where the Great River met the Southern Sea.

It was a good plan, Thomas thought. He just hoped the bridges wouldn’t have to be burned. That would mean he, and the others, had failed and Antiá would have fallen. He wondered, as he entered the Hall of the Kings, if Miroslav would have approved of it.

He entered the cold room and walked past his ancestors, male and female alike, and he stopped next to the large cracked granite slab and he reached out to rest his hand on it. Like every other time he had come down here, Thomas’ finger traced Miroslav’s name in the elvish runes, more out of habit than anything else. He had become so familiar with the pattern of Miroslav’s name in the other language that he felt he could write it with his eyes closed and from memory, just from how the letters felt underneath his hand.

More than ever he wished with all his heart that Miroslav were here to give him guidance, or a sense of direction. He stilled his finger in the tracing of his lover’s name and he sighed, head bowing over the stone. He wasn’t going to cry over Miroslav again; there were no more tears left to shed. He had cried them all over the years. What had once been the sharp sting of pain slicing through his heart had faded; now, it was a dull ache that was almost always present. He doubted it would ever go away.

“All I wanted is one forever with you.” He murmured quietly, feeling his throat thicken around the words. “Why was that such an impossibility?”

Thomas felt the tears stinging his eyes but he refused to shed them. How could he have any tears now? Thousands if not millions had been shed in the five years since Miroslav had died on top of the tower and the Valkyrie had taken him away. How could there still be any tears left to shed over the fact there had been no future for them to get lost in? He sighed and shook his head, resting his hand on the cold stone.

Miroslav was gone, dead. He wasn’t going to come back. Gods knew, Thomas had wished upon every star in the sky, prayed to all the Gods, and still he wasn’t going to return. Short of offering his soul to the demons of Hölle, there really wasn’t a lot he could do about that. After the incident with Joachim, there was zero chance of Thomas ever really considering that option anyway. Miroslav would never forgive him if he had ever done something so stupid as that.

Another habit that Thomas’ fingers had grown accustomed to was tracing the outline of the crack in the stone. Though, this time, there was no fondness in the gesture. He still wasn’t sure what had done this, but it was a magic of a dark, powerful kind he was sure of it. There was no other explanation. He was tempted to have the granite redone and a new, unblemished slab placed over this damaged one but something told him not to do it. He wasn’t sure what the instinct was but it nagged in the back of his mind not to touch the flawed stone and have it replaced. Regardless of the debate of his inner struggle, there may not be time for that nor the need. He may be dead and buried before he had to worry about Miroslav’s tomb.

Glancing over, Thomas caught sight of his uncle Jürgen’s tomb and he felt another heaviness in his heart. Jürgen surely would’ve known what to do in this situation. He probably wouldn’t have waited for a ranger in the west to notify him of the army on its way; he likely would’ve had fresh scouts in Fort Waíte on the look out and they would have raised awareness of the army coming before they ever got near the boarder. Then, he would have ridden through the desert and fought them there. They never would have made it so close to Ansieál without him knowing about it.

Thomas had failed though. The scouts had not alerted him and it had been Mario’s faithfulness that had done so. Speaking of which, Thomas had not heard from him in several days and his anxiety was growing. What if Mario was dead? What if the orks had seized him and were torturing him for information? What if Mario had abandoned them all to die? He shoved that thought away instantly. Mario was no coward and he would not have left them to die. He was too honorable of a man for that and Thomas felt ashamed for even having thought of such a thing.

Thomas took a moment to think of his friends and he wished they were back here with him to give him some peace of mind. He could use Manuel’s silent strength, Marco’s inane comments that kept him grounded, and Bastian’s kindness with Lukas’ cheerful disposition. Tobias’ knowledge and power would be a powerful ally and more than anything he could use Benedikt’s intelligence and Mat’s roguish bravery. He wished his friends well and hoped more than ever that they were all safe and soon would be returned to him. He could use their presence now. It was a shame he did not have it.

He sighed and looked away from his uncle and his would-have-been lover’s tombs and he went to look at the stained glass window where light streamed through it. He looked at the scene that replayed the crowning of the king, his great ancestor, Daniel of Avenón—the first king of Antiá—and he looked at the richness of the colors forever captured in the glass. The first king of his land was not buried here, but the rest of his line had been, and the thousands of years of history surrounded Thomas and he wondered if that prestigious line would end with him because he had failed to keep trained, watchful eyes on their boarders.

“Please tell me I have not let you down, oh great and wise King.” He bowed his head to the stained glass and sighed heavily, the weight of his realm on his shoulders.

He thought to the missive he had received from Tobias that morning and he tried to find comfort in it. He had told him that he had left immediately from Ebön and was going to teleport back to Indéne to see if Jens could possibly have any answers on what was possessing Joachim’s body. He hoped that Tobias would return in time to assist them; perhaps if Thomas could be very lucky, Tobias would return with elven support to assist with their battle. That would be if he had been very lucky.

Thomas had sent a request to Jens himself once he had learned of the army’s approach and had asked for aid. He had sent back two advisors, one called André and the other Sami, and they had politely conveyed their wish for neutrality in the matter of the human kingdom. Thomas had almost thrown them out the window at their brash indifference. How could you remain blind? If the humans fell, then surely the elves would go too.

 _But they have a land Beyond all knowing to return to if they so desire._ Thomas knew the tale and he rebutted it as soon as it came. The elves would not leave Antiá without a very good reason. If they did, well then, so things would be set in motion to the End of All Days and no one would survive in the chaos that would follow. Thomas was going to be damned if the kingdom was lost, his throne, and everyone in the world perished because the elves decided to leave like cowards instead of staying to fight. He would drag them into battle with his teeth if he had to if it prevented the End of All Days.

He sighed again and turned away from the stained glass of his ancestor’s coronation and he refocused his attention on the matters at hand. He was considering sending out another scout for Mario when Lukasz arrived in the arch at the farthest reaches of the hall, breathing deeply as though he had run to find the king. Thomas came to attention as Lukasz bowed.

“What is it, Piszczu?” Thomas asked, weariness very evident in his voice.

Lukasz took a deep breath and moved a little further into the hallway so he wouldn’t have to shout. He bowed respectfully before he spoke. “Mario has returned. Sebastian has sent for the doctor and we’ve taken him upstairs.”

“The doctor?” Thomas asked already starting towards the arch and the way out of the hall. “What troubles him? Is it mortal?”

Lukasz followed after his king after he took a moment to regain his breath. He answered Thomas’ questions to the best of his ability, which wasn’t much since he had only glimpsed the ranger for a few moments before Sebastian had stepped in and ordered the doctor be called.

“I don’t know sire. He was speaking well enough when I saw him, he just looked exhausted is all. Sebastian sent me to find you as quickly as possible, though so that’s what I have done.” They moved quickly towards the stairs that led back to the main part of the castle and the keep. “I apologize for not knowing more, Thomas.”

“It’s all right.” He replied and moved through the keep towards the rooms where Sebastian would have likely taken him for medical treatment and he arrived without great fanfare, throwing the doors open himself and he saw Mario laying on a table with the doctor hunched over his arm.

“Gods! What happened?” Thomas asked, moving closer.

Lukasz had been right; Mario _did_ look exhausted. That wasn’t the worst of it though. His entire left side was soaked in red, though that was likely due to the fact he still had his shirt on and it was saturated in blood. Mario wasn’t especially pale, but he was tan anyway, and Thomas felt a twist in his stomach. He had a brief glimpse into the future if Mario died running a spying errand for him; he didn’t think Manu would ever get over it, and Gods knew Thomas would never forgive himself for it. He offered a silent prayer and hoped that Mario wasn’t that seriously wounded.

He turned his attentions onto the doctor, Bernd, and awaited a response. The older man was too busy cleaning the wound to examine the depth of the injury.

“Thomas—” Mario started to say, reaching out for Thomas’ attention and the king looked away from the doctor and refocused on the patient. He took Mario’s reaching hand in his own and looked into the blue eyes of his friend.

“Yes, yes, I’m here. What is it?” He asked, moving closer to Mario’s head. His frown had returned and he would likely have wrinkles from all of the frowning he had done lately. “What happened?”

There was a surprising, but yet reassuring, strength to the grip that Mario kept on Thomas’ hands and he listened intently as the other man spoke, passion in his eyes.

“There’s thousands of them Thomas. Thousands. All heavily armed and look as if they mean to make a siege if necessary. They’ll be here soon. Three days at the most.” Mario stared into Thomas’ eyes. It was with great credit to his bearing and rank that Thomas didn’t let the fear shine through his eyes. He did not flinch; he did not react other than to simply nod. Where he had hoped for hundreds with a possible chance, Mario had confirmed his greatest fears that there were many more than that. His people would not survive; they would be overwhelmed on sheer numbers alone.

Bernd straightened and began to get the instruments he would need to treat Mario’s wound. Thomas looked at him then, expectant of a diagnosis and Bernd obliged him.

“Ork blade pierced his upper arm,” he indicated where without touching the wound, “it was a deep one.” He then refocused and looked Mario in the eye. “I dare say though you’ll be able to keep your arm; it’ll just be sore for a few days. And, needless to say, practically useless.”

One of the best scouts in the land could no longer fight because of an injury. Thomas sighed and gave Mario’s hand another squeeze before he turned to look out the window. He had to think of a plan. The fortifications of the castle were strong. They could last a few days if they were besieged. Perhaps that would be enough time for his other people to get out of the way and to the east. They could set sail and find another land where they could make their home and start over again as refugees.

He wanted to close his eyes and pray some more but he didn’t have the strength for such a fervent request for favoritism in battle. He wanted to pretend he was young again and hide under his bed when the thunder was too loud outside of his window and stay there until Jürgen found him and would make him laugh again. He wanted to run freely through the meadows in the late afternoon sun without a care in the world. So long Antiá had known peace, now it was to fall in war and there was nothing he could do. He had failed them all.

“Sebastian, send the people south immediately.” Thomas addressed his guard without looking over. He focused on the horizon and saw that, at least for now, it was empty of any army.

“Yes sire.” Sebastian replied before he turned to leave the room. Thomas swallowed hard and still refused to show his fear. He did not want to admit defeat before the battle had even begun, but how could he not? Thousands versus the few hundred men he had rallied to fight for their land.

Sebastian had been gone for only a moment or two when he returned, causing Thomas to turn back around to face the room. He hadn’t been gone long enough to carry out his order and Thomas was about to open his mouth to ask what delayed him when he noticed the figure in Sebastian’s shadow.

The figure was of a man who had long-since been absent from Ansieál and who had grown very skillful at hiding in shadows when Thomas had seen him. Robert, the lord of Vasha. And he looked troubled.

“What is it, Robert?” Thomas asked immediately, already feeling a great hollowing in the pit of his stomach.

Robert took a deep breath, swallowed, and then folded his hands in front of him.

“I bring news sire. My sincerest apologies, but I came as quickly as I could.” Thomas waved his hand, urging him to continue was quickly as he could. His impatience was growing every second Robert delayed in replying. Finally, he did so and Thomas’ dread washed over him anew.

“An army comes from the east, all goblins from the looks of it. I would say a thousand or so. They are burning their way across Vasha and will be here soon sire. I came as quickly as I could make my escape without their notice.”

 _Another_ army? Goblins this time? Thomas groaned aloud; he could not help it this time, and he wanted to sink to his knees and sob.

“What demon has plagued me thusly?” He asked and turned back to the window, body tense with every ounce of anguish he felt. “What have I done to deserve this?”

Thomas wasn’t sure if he had actually spoken that aloud, and if he had he wasn’t sure if it had carried across the room to his companions. He didn’t really mind at that point; he was too far gone with worry.

Now it was certain, they would be overrun with numbers. They wouldn’t last long and they would be lucky to last a few days, especially now that goblins were involved. They had to be connected; Thomas refused to think it was a great coincidence. Two armies of the foulest creatures in the Otherlands and he was struggling to cope with the strain of it all.

Several things were now certain to him.

Firstly, there would be no rest for him in the coming days. He would not be able to sleep and he would likely drive himself mad with worry. Secondly, his friends were alone and without this knowledge in the north. If they returned, what would they be walking into but a slaughter? Thirdly, and most painfully of all, the escape route to the east was now gone. There was only two options for his people, due south to the Bay, or North where unknown dangers lurked in the mountains.

Thomas swallowed hard and he looked back to Sebastian.

“Carry out my order as I requested. Send my people south, only now with more haste than ever, and make sure they travel as light as possible. We cannot delay. Get them out of here, Seb.”

The other man nodded and left the room; this time he did not immediately come back. Thomas sighed and he slumped into a nearby chair. He could hear the sound of Bernd working on Mario’s arm—Mario hissed with every stitch—and the faint ticking of a clock sounded somewhere near the fireplace mantle. He rested his head in his hand and Thomas tried to find the strength of mind as to what he would do next. He wasn’t going to abandon the capital like a coward. He was sure of that; he would stay to defend it from the orks and goblins, even if he was the only one doing so.

Thomas felt the weight of a thousand kingdoms fall onto him and he thought to himself as he listened to the clock tick-tock away. _Miroslav, save me. Help us all. I beg it of you, save us._


	11. A Seed of Discontent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fic! \0/ Enjoy ;) *hides for the ending of the chapter*

There was a small sound that was repetitive and continuous throughout their entire stay that they had grown so used to that it no longer bothered them. Benedikt wasn’t quite sure how long they’d been away, but enough to know they should probably be sending another letter to Thomas at their earliest convenience. It didn’t seem to matter much right now, however. He could always send a letter after dinner perhaps. Maybe after the card game with some of the dwarves, which had become their routine since their arrival in Angûr.

Benedikt handed the empty bowl he had to Mats and it was passed around the table for the hearty stew to be ladled into it. It would be a few moments before the stew would work its way back around to Benedikt, but he didn’t mind. The routine of it was always something to see in how coordinated the dwarves were. The phrase ‘take one down, pass it around’ fit very well as that’s what the dwarves did. They passed all the items of their meal—the stew, the bread and butter, and most importantly the ale—around the ginormous table that seated them all until everyone had their share and portion.

He had been surprised, at first, to see how many of the dwarves had remained considering how little was known about them and the fact that he, like almost everyone else, thought they had all vanished. From his gatherings and observations, Benedikt estimated there to be at least a hundred of the dwarves left in Angûr, perhaps more but he had lost count every time he tried to count them all. The main court of Philipp’s kingdom consisted of four dwarven lords and himself. Benedikt had been assured that all were as important as the next dwarf by each of the lords, before they would go on to compliment themselves individually and at length.

The first dwarven lord apart from Philipp himself was his right hand and his advisor in all things, Gerd. Of all the dwarves, Gerd was the oldest and had the grayest beard that hung down to his waist. It was thickly braided but in a simple design and he often wore the colors black and gray to distinguish himself amongst other dwarves. He had a way with words that carried nicely and reminded Benedikt of the elves in a way, but somehow still differently. Where elves favored a wordier prose with lots of imagery, the dwarves were much more simple and more to the point. Gerd knew a great deal about a great many things, Benedikt was surprised at how much the dwarf knew, especially of the human realm, since none of them really left Angûr, unless it was for another dwarven city hidden in the mountains.

Gerd’s son was the third dwarf lord who ruled over the province of Orûn to the eastern fork of the Northern Mountains, and his name was Piotr. Like his father, Piotr’s beard was growing gray and was simply braided. Piotr was a simple-spoken dwarf also and Benedikt wondered if that was a trait that ran in Gerd’s bloodline, or just in him and his eldest son.

The third dwarf that Benedikt had come to recognize as a leader among their kind was Marcel. Unlike Piotr and Gerd, Marcel had hair the color of wheat in a field and his beard was not quite as long as the others. Marcel maintained control of the western bit of the mountains, the ones near Erovíere. Benedikt had come to learn the name of that region to be Udûr, when it was mentioned at all—which was not much. Benedikt wasn’t sure why the western province wasn’t referred to as much; he just assumed it was because there weren’t many dwarves that lived there. Marcel’s particular talent was with weaponry; not necessarily wielding it, though he was good at that also, but crafting blades of iron. He was a fine smith and Benedikt had considered requesting arrow tips from him; they would come in handy if he could ever return home to his beloved forest in the West.

The last dwarf that Benedikt had come to know very well was perhaps the one he was most uncomfortable around. He couldn’t quite place his finger on why he wasn’t so overly friendly towards Ilkay, but there was something about the dwarf with black hair and a black beard that set him on edge. Perhaps it was the way the dwarf appeared to be roguish, sometimes out of line in a way that Philipp would have to bring him back in with a look or a gesture of his hand. Perhaps it was the fact that Ilkay seemed to notice everything around them and would make comment on it at odd times, like in the corridors or in passageways when Benedikt thought he was alone. It could have even perhaps been the way Ilkay could handle a blade, which was better than most, Benedikt had to admit. Most likely, the reason for his dislike of the dwarf who held control of the southern province of Ibolodûr was because of how Ilkay looked at Mats, as if he were the most precious gem in all the world.

Benedikt wouldn’t say he was jealous, not at all, but there wasn’t something quite right about the way the dwarf with black eyes would stare at Mats either. It made him uncomfortable, which would lead him to thinking the same thought he didn’t dwell on much but had seemingly been doing more of as the days passed. Something about Angûr wasn’t _right_. Perhaps it was because he had been underground in the mountains for too long, but something wasn’t right about the way things were. He couldn’t put his finger on it and he had no proof or accusations to make. He and Mats had been treated well since they had arrived, spoiled with feasts and given gifts of such precious gems, Benedikt didn’t think he would ever be able to look away from some of them. He had no complaints to make that held any weight so he had remained silent, unspeaking of his concerns to Mats who did not appear to have any qualms about their host at all.

Which led Benedikt to think of the dwarven king, who was the one seated at the highest point on the table. As their bowls finally settled in front of them, Benedikt picked up his spoon and began to eat, eager to fill his hungry belly and Mats had already beaten him to it, having already dug in while Benedikt had glanced at the king.

Philipp ruled the northern province himself and oversaw the other three with a keen eye that belonged on an eagle, Benedikt thought. Philipp’s province of Angûr was the largest and most populated. It was also the heart of the mountains and produced the most gems. Orûn was a resource for the forests on the slopes of the mountains before they gave way to the larger forests of Antiá and Udûr was rich with iron and other minerals needed to keep the dwarven forges going without delay. Benedikt wasn’t sure what Ibolodûr was good for, he hadn’t explored much of the region yet as he was trying to keep Ilkay and Mats as separated as possible, but he was sure the southern province had its usefulness as well.

Philipp had a profound eye for a gem and could pick the most beautiful stones from a pile of flawless perfections. Many times over he had proven that very skill in front of both Mats and himself and every time, Benedikt was amazed. In addition to finding the most beautiful, Philipp could also as easily point out the faults in what Benedikt thought to be a unspoiled stone. A small chip here, an impossibly small scratch there, no imperfection went undetected from Philipp’s eyes. Benedikt wondered if the dwarven king was as good with people as he was with jewels.

After dinner, Philipp allowed them a brief reprieve to their quarters before the evening’s festivities of drinking and cards, or some other form of debauchery, would occur. Mats burped on his way back towards their room, the one with the highest ceiling in all the caverns and they still were fearful to stretch to their full height in it.

“Beautiful.” Benedikt replied dryly as Mats walked down the torch-lit corridor in front of him.

“I know I am, thanks love.” Mats grinned and Benedikt kicked a rock from the floor to bump into the other man’s leg. “Watch it.”

Benedikt rolled his eyes and moved past him as they entered their chamber and he was soon brought flush against the pirate’s body. He could feel Mats’ smile against his neck as the other man began to kiss him there, slowly at first, lingeringly before he made his way up Benny’s neck towards his cheek.

“Don’t tempt me to keep you here all to myself…” Mats murmured quietly and Benedikt shivered as it was right in his ear. He was tempted all right, but something was still bothering him.

Mats noticed. “What is it? Don’t tell me you would be disappointed to miss the cards for one night…”

“Of course not.” Benedikt replied quietly and pulled himself away to sit on the bed that took up a large part of the chamber that they had been given.

Mats moved closer and sat next to him on the bed, pulling his hand into his lap to hold it there. Benedikt shifted, the words of his discomfort on his lips, but he still held them back. He wasn’t sure why, but something just wasn’t quite _right_ about all of this.

“What is it?” Mats asked and when Benedikt looked over at him, he saw the look of worry on Mats’ face.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure. I’m just tired.” Benedikt lied and Mats looked as though he didn’t believe him. Benedikt continued before he could protest though. “Do you mind if we stay in tonight? I’m not feeling up for cards and I could use your company.”

Mats looked as if he still wanted to protest but he didn’t. He nodded once and leaned over to place a kiss on Benedikt’s cheek as he squeezed his hand.

“Of course we can. Get ready for bed and I’ll shut the door.” Mats gave Benedikt a light kiss before he got up to do just that. Benedikt, relieved, pulled his shirt over his head and made to settle into bed. Before he knew it, Mats was back beside him and was ready to hold him in bed.

As Benedikt laid down next to him, he sighed in contentment. This was perfect, being here. There wasn’t anything to harm them here, nor was there any monsters lurking in the shadows of the caves. Only the sound of the ‘tink’ from the caverns where the dwarves forever mined for stones or iron could interrupt the peacefulness of the moment. He was lucky indeed to have found himself in such a wonderful place with Mats.

The thought carried him away to sleep and, eventually, he began to dream.

 

He knew it was a dream, there could be no other explanation for it. He was walking along the throne room of Angûr, only it was empty unlike the other times he had ever been in there. And, unlike every other time, a beam of white light was coming down from the ceiling of the cavern and was shining on a massive pile of rocks, broken as if the ceiling had caved in. Benedikt frowned and moved effortlessly across the floor towards the stones. He looked at them, and then up to the ceiling where he saw, for the first time in days, the night’s sky. He saw a thousand different stars and he smiled a little as he caught a small glimpse of the moon. He reveled in the light, having not seen it for so long.

Then a voice called out to him and Benedikt froze in surprise and a little fear. He hadn’t heard that voice in so long that it was odd to hear it now, and here of all places! He turned to find the source of it and there he was, standing in the shadows of the moonbeam.

Miroslav.

“How—?” Benedikt started to ask but Miroslav shook his head.

“There is no time for that, Benedikt.” Miroslav replied and looked at Benedikt with great concern, as if he were worried over the other man’s safety. The blond couldn’t explain it for the life of him.

“You’re dead. This is just a dream.” Benedikt shook his head. “Time for what?”

“Yes, I am no longer in the land of the living and am Beyond your viewing. However, you must listen to what I say, Benedikt. And you must understand, do you think you can do that for me?” Miroslav asked, a searching look on his face.

Benedikt, more confused than ever nodded and focused his entire attention as best he could on the wizard. He felt weightless, carefree, as if he could think about anything and it would come to be. As if he wanted to be in a field of pine trees he could be and it would come to pass. Or perhaps he was out in the Southern Sea with Mats again on the _Hades_ and for once they weren’t being chased by trolls or something. Or—

“Benedikt, please. I need you to wake up.”

Benedikt blinked and focused his attention on Miroslav, who had gotten semi-hazy in his lack of concentration. He frowned once the wizard’s words crossed his mind.

“What do you mean? I _am_ awake. Er, well, you mean from this dream.” He admitted after realizing what Miro meant. But the wizard was shaking his head and a look of seriousness was written all across his features.

“No, Benedikt. You’re not asleep now, nor when you think you wake. You need to wake up completely. It’s time now. I _need_ you to wake up. Please?”

Benedikt was still confused and Miroslav’s voice carried across his senses as the presence in front of him began to fade. The hole that had opened to the stars and sky above was beginning to close as well and the room was growing steadily darker.

“Wake up, Benedikt.” His voice still carried and Benedikt stirred a little, feeling even more out of sorts than he had before. He began to fight the hold he was keeping on his sleep.

“Wake up.” The room grew entirely dark and Benedikt felt a heaviness returning to his limbs as he began to rouse from the weirdness of the dream. The last thing he recalled before his eyes opened was one more almost-frantic plea that was definitely in the whisper of Miro’s voice.

“Just wake up.”


	12. A Path in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your nightly round of fic :D Hopefully will be able to update again tomorrow, but I may not get the chance to. I'm going to have to pack because I'm going on vacation. Updates may return to less-frequent, but hopefully I'll get a chance to update once or twice while I'm gone. I'm still hoping to be done with this before November 1st. We'll see!
> 
> Anyway, fic update is go!

Marco sat atop Sema as they rested for a brief moment, overlooking the lay of the land ahead of them. They were about an hour into the large hills of the bad lands of the North and what a view it was indeed. Earlier that morning they had passed through the last remaining parts of the Grénian Forest and had crossed the Lake Road shortly before having done that; that was the road which would have lead to Levium, had they been short of supplies and needed to stop, which they hadn’t been.

To the left and slightly behind his shoulder, Marco could see the faint outline of the city to the southwest with the horizon disappearing into an azure plain of the lake. Between them and the city, the Great River divided the field in half as it continued to wind its way north to its source. They had left the side of the river, banking to the east and had started a northward route that was cutting easterly for easier travel, at least that’s what Manuel had promised them.

“Remind me again why we are headed this way?” Marco asked, overlooking the many large, rolling hills ahead of them that would need to be crossed before they reached the giant mountains that swallowed the horizon whole. From here, the white-tipped peaks were clearly in view and would be at least a day’s ride, if not more, to their base.

“When you did your travels, did you ever come north at all?” Manuel asked, annoyance in his tone. To Bastian’s dismay, the two of them had not completely healed the wounds that their words had caused the other night and were now only speaking when things needed to be decided or to gripe about one another; although it was usually Marco with the complaining and Manuel with the short answers in reply. “Or were you too busy looking at a book to actually _look_ at what you were seeing?”

“Sarcasm does not become you, _meldir_.” Marco replied, adding the elvish word for ‘friend’ with a sharp glare aimed in Manuel’s direction.

“Guys…” Bastian started with a heavy sigh as he shook his head and resumed the role of mediator between the two. “Manuel, please, why is it better for us to go east? You only stated that it would be easier.”

“Which it will be.”

“What proof do you have?” Marco asked with a raised eyebrow.

Manuel sighed and moved his horse closer before pointing to the horizon, to the northwest and in the same direction the Great River was flowing.

“The river winds its way through those hills, the same as we will wind our way. However, at the foot of the mountains, it gets very rocky and very steep. Not safe for travel for anyone, the rocks get slippery and you could slide right on into the river. Not to mention, there is Ulâr to contend with…”

“Ulâr?” Bastian asked with a raised eyebrow. Manuel nodded and his tone softened when it was directed to the other blond instead of Marco.

“Ulâr is a name that was given to the giant falls that are the real source of the River. The source is a stream that starts in the mountains and works its way down, until it reaches the cliff of Ulâ and the waterfall three is called Ulâr. It means—” 

“No one cares about your phonetics lesson. So there’s a waterfall and a rocky road, fine. We’ll go to the east then.” Marco interrupted with an annoyed tone and started down the hill that they had been resting on. Manuel sighed and his shoulders were tense as he started to have his horse walk down the hill also. Bastian shook his head and followed suit, making sure he was in the middle as the three of them rode side by side down the hill.

“By the way, it’s called etymology.” Bastian said in Marco’s direction.

“What?”

“It’s not phonetics. It’s etymology, the history of words. If you’re going to insult our friend, then please use the right words.” Bastian replied and Manuel to his left began to chuckle while Marco’s cheeks reddened, whether from embarrassment or anger, it was hard to tell.

They rode in silence from then out for the rest of the day. The silence along with the occasional rest break that they took was good for them, as they had made it to the edge of the mountains by the time the sun was setting. A quick camp was made and they sat by it for the night, in quiet, apart from the sound of the wind and the campfire.

Bastian sighed. He had had enough of this.

“When will you two put your prides away and be as friends like we used to be?” He looked at both of them and waited for an answer from someone. When Marco and Manuel only exchanged a glance but no words, Bastian sighed louder. “I am tired of this. What are you so angry about? Manu, Marco’s personal life is his business, even if it involves another of our friends. And Marco, you perhaps should have been a little more thoughtful when sending that book or whatever to Manu in the first place, and with Lukasz’ feelings.”

Marco mumbled something under his breath, but he didn’t look at either of them as he said it. Manuel threw his spoon at him.

“Don’t insult Bastian as well as me, _arauco_.”

“Don’t call me a terrible monster!”

“Stop acting like one then, you child.”

“Guys—”

“Go fall in a lake, you giant ass.”

“As soon as you cry one from your tears of incompetence.”

“Fuck you!”

“Manuel! _Marco_!”

“I wish I had never met you.”

“I wish you’d never been _born_!”

Manuel rose up at that, fists clenched, and his eyes stared at Marco. His entire body was quaking with anger and he wanted, more desperately than ever, to lunge out and hit the mouthy little man that remained on the ground. Bastian was poised to get up and separate the two but there was no need for it.

Turning to face Bastian, Manuel addressed only him.

“I will take my leave for the night. I hope you sleep well, Bastian. And to the rat,” Manuel glared at Marco for a brief moment before returning his eyes to Bastian, “may it drown in its own nightmares.”

“So eloquent, for a gigantic buffoon.” Marco replied, breathing heavily from his anger.

Manuel did not look back at the other man and instead gathered up his bedroll and took the reins for his horse and left the fireside camp and disappeared into the night, ignoring Bastian’s pleas of asking him to come back.

Once he had left, Bastian let out a long sigh and he stared into the fire. Marco was smart enough not to say anything, for a change, and he finished his dinner. By the time he had set his bowl down, Bastian was looking at him again.

“Why are you so angry with him?”

“You said it yourself,” Marco replied after a moment, “my personal life is my own business. I don’t like it when people pry.”

“You’re both acting like children.”

Marco shrugged and Bastian felt the disappointment linger longer than it probably should have. He made ready for bed and looked up to the sky that was partially obscured by pine trees that they had camped near. The smell of them was fresh in the air and he felt peace starting to creep into his senses. However, no matter how pleasant the surroundings, the rift that rested between Manuel and Marco was now deeper than ever and he wasn’t sure how to repair it.

 

Manuel secured his horse to a tree branch and he sat at the base of the tree with a heavy sigh. He had found a small valley between two hills that only had a few trees to obscure the view of the night sky. He looked at it then and found himself lost in the stars. The black banner of the sky was littered with the shimmer of a million diamonds that glittered in the night and he was lost to the awe of it.

He could remember his mother showing him the stars and telling him the constellations and the tales behind them all. He missed her now; Marco’s foul words stirred the memory of her in his mind and he did not let it go. Perhaps it had been Marco’s words or perhaps they were closer to his old homestead than he had been for a great many years. Whatever the reason, he thought of his parents then and wished they were both still alive.

He thought about Mario then and found himself growing sad again. It was a different kind of sadness, not the longing and familiar burn of the knowledge of a loss, but an ache of loneliness that lingered in the path of the thought of his lover. He hoped Mario was all right. He wondered what he was up to at this very moment. Was he at home in their cabin, overlooking the sea and hoping that Manu would return home soon? If he was, was it raining? Was he lying awake listening to the sound of it and hoping that Manu was there by his side to keep him warm instead of a blanket and a fire?

Manu hoped that’s where he was and what he was doing, though he wished that Mario was fast asleep and not busy missing him. He wanted Mario to have pleasant dreams filled with happiness instead of the loneliness he now felt.

The thought of Mario and being beside him brought Manuel enough peace that he was about to drift off into sleep when he heard the snap of a branch and the sound of someone’s approach. Hand gripping his sword, Manuel’s energies returned and he silently rose from his position and drew his sword, drowsiness evaporated with his movements.

He snuck up beside his intruder and raised his sword to the creature’s throat and would have delivered the blow…if he hadn’t recognized who it was. He sighed, but kept his blade poised, feeling another one near his abdomen from his intruder.

“I’m still tempted to slice your throat.” Manuel replied before he slowly pulled his sword away; Marco’s blade left his side as he did so.

“And I’m tempted to give you the excuse.” Marco returned and they took a few steps back from one another.

“You walk louder than thunderstorm’s wrath.”

“Yeah? Well you breathe as loudly as a hurricane. I heard you coming from yards away.” Manuel was ready to return another insult when Marco sighed and pushed a hand through his own hair. “Look, can we just not do this? I came to apologize for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

Manuel was silent for a moment, waiting to see if Marco was going to add anything else. When he didn’t, Manuel shrugged and turned to go sit back down by his tree.

“So that’s it?” Marco asked as Manuel left his side.

“Yes. That’s it, unless there is more you would like to say?”

Marco was quiet for a few heartbeats before he spoke again. “Manu, Bastian is right. We need to stop this foolishness. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Lukasz or the full story of the book. Can we get over that now? We have a job to do and I don’t want to fight with you for the extent of it.”

“Consider it forgotten then, just don’t mention it anymore. I want to move past it and forget about it.” Manuel replied as he settled himself by the tree.

Marco, whose eyes were well enough adjusted to the dark now, could see that Manuel had tipped his head back and was resting it against the tree, as if he would sleep there instead of laying down first.

“You want to say something else, you may as well go ahead and say it.” Manuel stated without looking over at him. Marco briefly wondered if he was that predictable or if Manu was just guessing. The guardsman shook his head and looked to the sky, offering a silent prayer to the Valkyrie for patience before he spoke in a soft tone.

“Manu, how are we supposed to find a city that’s been hidden for an Age or more by the people that we thought had disappeared until five years ago? How in all of Antiá are we supposed to do that?”

“We will find them. If nothing truly nefarious is at work, then it shouldn’t take too long.”

“But if some of the best hunters and rangers couldn’t find the dwarves, and they were actually looking for them, what hope do we have? We’re just a trio of –”

“A trio of concerned friends who have individual skills who know what they’re looking for and have a good bearing on which way their friends have disappeared off to.” Manuel replied, head shifted in Marco’s direction but his face was lost to shadow. Marco didn’t have to see his face to know he was being looked at.

“I suppose you are right.” Marco returned and looked back to the stars. 

“Guys!? Get back here!”

Bastian’s shout came from a distance away, from the sound of the old campsite. He sounded anxious about something. Marco ignored Manuel’s groan as he got up and started back towards the old campsite with his horse in tow. Marco left him behind, already jogging back to the old site.

“What is it?” Marco called over, stumbling slightly over the uneven ground as he arrived back in the clearing that they had originally settled in. Bastian wasn’t anywhere to be found. “Basti?”

“His horse is still here.” Manu said as he entered the clearing behind Marco and secured his horse again. “Bastian?” They called out loudly together and waited for a response.

“Over here! I found something!”

They exchanged a brief glance in the firelight before they moved towards the sound of where Bastian’s voice had come from. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness again, but once they had, they found Bastian a few yards to the north of the campsite. The orange glow was almost completely faded behind them largely in part to the trees, but mainly because they were at some distance from it. They spotted Bastian crouched low to the ground, looking at something, and they moved up closer.

“What is it?” Marco replied, moving to his right side while Manu went to his left. They both looked down at the ground and, at first, saw nothing out of the ordinary, but then again it was dark and shadows lurked everywhere.

“What? I don’t see anything.” Marco asked again and squinted.

“How about now?” Bastian shifted a few pebbles out of the way and a faint glow had begun to form on the ground. Manuel hissed as his eyes widened in surprise and Marco frowned at the odd shape on the ground.

“What is it?”

“Of _course_!” Manuel exclaimed, turning away and smacking himself in the forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it before!”

“What!” Marco asked again, impatiently.

“Don’t you read, Marco?” Manuel asked, turning back around with an incredulous look. “Never mind. It wouldn’t matter if you did, we don’t speak that language, no one does. At least, not many if we could find them. Good work, Bastian!”

The half-elf smacked Bastian on the back before he bent low to look for another of the strange marks on the ground. The faint glow was faded, but it was there. He began brushing the earth free of any loose rock or leaf and tried to find another one.

“Help me look!” He ordered the other two.

“Only if you tell me what the bloody hell you’re on about first.” Marco crossed his arms in agitation.

“It’s a dwarvish rune, stupid!” Manuel shook his head. “A moon rune at that. You can’t see them in the day.”

“Clever really, if they did it to throw off the trail. Do you know what it says?” Bastian asked, looking at Manuel.

“Of course not. No one speaks dwarvish except their own kind.”

“So for all we know it could be telling us to go take a jump off a cliff and not directions to the city of Angûr?” Marco asked with his arms still crossed. He was skeptical to say the least.

“Unlikely, since it’s just the one. It’s probably a direction or some other marker to indicate where the next one is. Help me look.” Manuel gestured to the other two, who, after a moment, joined him in his search.

“Well then how are we supposed to know what it says if we don’t read dwarvish?” Marco asked as he was looking for another faint glimmer on the ground.

“We don’t have to know what it says. We can just recognize a pattern and follow it.” Bastian said as he followed Manuel, just in a slightly different direction so not to cover the same ground twice.

“This is madness, but very well then.” Marco shook his head and helped them look, hoping this wasn’t a fools errand or a scheme for treachery.

On their hands and knees they crawled for hours, finding at first only one other rune, but as they went on they found more and more, all headed in the same direction, north. Pleased with their progress, Manuel set back after a while on his knees and he felt a strain in his back from having been bent over for such a long time without stretching properly. He rubbed the lower part of his back and he tilted his head to the side, listening intently.

“What time would you say it is, Marco?” He asked after a moment, noticing the quiet of their surroundings.

Marco stopped his search and sounded only a little irritated at the oddity of the question. He looked to the sky and at the position of the moon in it. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Two, maybe three in the morning?”

“Exactly…” Manuel frowned and he continued to listen. Bastian stopped also and looked at Manuel and he frowned. They exchanged a look, having both noticed the same thing.

Slowly, Manuel reached for his sword and began to pull it from its sheath. He nodded once to Bastian to do the same and Marco picked up on it, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He didn’t have long to think about it before the high-pitched sound of goblins overwhelmed them on the path they had been following. Manuel rose quickly and began to attack the nearest goblin while Bastian and Marco did the same.

It was an ambush and it was too dark to see how many there were. Manuel felt something slide against his side and he winced sharply as the blade began to sting as it sliced his flesh. The wild calls of the goblins carried into the night and Manuel could only do his level best to keep up with the creatures sparring with him. He couldn’t defend Marco or Bastian, due to his trying to keep ahead of his own pursuers. He hoped they were doing all right for themselves as he continued to fight with the three goblins in his radius.

They moved down the path a little, getting split up from the three of them and somehow Manuel made it to the top of another hill. The break in trees let the moonlight shine through and Manuel suppressed a groan when he saw how many goblins there were. He defended himself another attack but he felt another sting against his leg this time.

Manuel hoped he could hold off the goblins long enough for the other two to get away. But with at least twenty attacking them from what he could see, he doubted it. Still, he would risk it. Summoning his strength, he moved back towards the other two as he shouted for them to make a run for it.


	13. The Search for Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacation's going well! Enjoy the new chapter ;)

Leaves of the forest blew across the ground and over the bridge that led to the hidden city. They had changed colors as they died, some were red to the point where they were almost brown, others were golden yellow. They blew weightlessly in the breeze as the forest ended and the carved bridges into Indéne began. It was there that Tobias appeared, cloak dragging along the ground gently as he crossed the bridge and started into the city.

He moved quietly and noticed the absence of the elves in the city. For a moment he wondered if they had done as Thomas feared they would: leave Antiá forever. He dismissed the thought. There were many tales and prophecies about the day that the elves would leave and none of the lore had really been concrete enough to worry him. He had learned of the elves once he had become Miro’s apprentice; he wasn’t worried about them abandoning them all now.

So why were they all absent of their usual milling city?

Tobias entered the great hall of Indéne and saw it was empty also. He wandered through the halls, refusing to become overly-worried. He saw no one, felt no one’s presence. The only thing he felt was the wind blowing through the open doorways and windows, stirring through the arches and halls, blowing the scent of the autumn around everything.

He finally felt a presence around the King’s hall and chamber. He walked into the open room and still saw that it was empty. Tobias frowned. But he had felt a presence here…

He glanced around Jens’ chamber and saw that it was empty of everything, of anyone, there was no one there. He saw the book open on the desk and he would have continued to glance over it, when he paused. It was glowing in the sunlight that was coming in through the window. Tobias moved closer to it and glanced at the pages on which it had been opened to.

Eyes widening, the question of where the elves had gone was temporarily eclipsed by this discovery.

“It’s not possible.” He breathed and stared at the book. He shook his head in disbelief. But he should have noticed beforehand, shouldn’t he? It all made sense. At last, something made some sense.

“But it is, when you think about it.” 

Tobias spun around and saw Jens standing on the balcony of the room. He had been so distracted he hadn’t felt the king’s presence arrive. Slightly embarrassed from being caught while in the king’s chambers unannounced, Tobias started to make an apology when Jens lifted his hand and entered the room.

“Why are you here, Tobias?” Jens asked, closing the book and setting it aside out of the sunlight. The elf looked down into Tobias’ face and the wizard swallowed stiffly.

“Yes, about that. A name has come to my attention; I’m wondering if you know anything about it. It is unknown to me.”

“A name?” Jens asked, straightening his posture with a raised eyebrow. “It must be quite important. What is it?”

“Ioanihr.” Tobias remembered the way the words sounded and he spoke them into the room. From the way the Elvenking reacted, he guessed that it was as serious as he feared. It really wasn’t going to be over soon, was it?

Jens swallowed, a nervous action and Tobias thought that was the first time he had ever seen Jens look flustered about something.

“I have not heard that name for a great while.” Jens turned away from the wizard and moved to look out over the sea again. “Why do you ask about that name?”

Tobias had never been given a reason to lie to the elvenking before, nor would he start now, especially not with the elaborate surprise in the book that had been left in the king’s possession for safekeeping for who knew how long. He swallowed and remembered the figure that had been using Joachim’s body for its vessel.

“I spoke to him, it, recently.”

“It, would be correct,” Jens nodded at the question in Tobias’ tone. “For that name is not a living being, nor has it been for over three Ages. Not since the elves of Ancient times walked these lands mixed with ork and goblins.”

Tobias knew that not even elves could live forever. At least not here in Antiá. In the lands Beyond, perhaps, but then he would have to die one day to find that out. Maybe he would never know. It would all depend of if, and when, the Valkyrie took him as to where he would end up. He was not of elven blood in the least, there would likely be no Beyond for him other than that where the Valkyrie took him.

“So what is Ioan—”

“Don’t speak that name!” Jens interrupted sharply and Tobias fell silent. There was fervor in Jens’ voice that he hadn’t heard before. His eyes flashed darkly and Tobias nodded once and Jens turned back to face the sea. “I don’t know what it wants. It’s been dormant for so long. I thought…”

He paused there and waited quietly, as if the years of his life that had been peaceful could somehow repay the mistake he had made. “I thought it had gone from this realm. I didn’t know it still existed.”

Tobias gave him the respect of his privacy for a moment. He watched the tension in the elf’s shoulders until after a few moments it eased and the king turned back to the room.

“It’s a demon, isn’t it?” Tobias asked after a moment. “Can it be destroyed?”

Jens looked up at that and he looked partially surprised. Whether that was because Tobias had guessed what it was or that he was so very wrong and right at the same time, the wizard wasn’t sure.

“You could call it that, but it would be the equivalent of calling a mountain a simple hill.” Jens replied dryly and moved over towards one of the large bookshelves in his chambers.

Tobias watched the king look for a title in particular and he glanced at the book on the desk and shook his head. He would ask about that later. Right now he had to find out about the monster that had been in Ebön.

“Where are all of your people?” Tobias asked as Jens selected a thin binding of papers from the shelf.

“Preparing.” Jens replied without really answering as he began to scan through the document. Tobias didn’t press as the king moved closer to him and then offered him the papers open to a particular page.

Tobias took the documents and glanced them over. They were written, of course, in elvish, but it was an older form of the language. Not quite ancient, but somewhere in the middle, and he had to translate some of the words in his own mind before they made sense.

‘ _…of all the great demons in our realm, few are as old and feared as the one called Ioanihr._ ’ Tobias kept reading the few paragraphs on the subject but swallowed hard when he came across a few more sentences lower on the page.

‘ _At the time of this writing, there is no known method to kill Ioanihr. Normal purification rituals do not work. Exorcisms do not work. The host would likely be reinfected before the night fell the following night. Salt and the sacred water creates a sting for the creature, but no more. Research is being sought into to find a way to rid the world of this monster. It is known that it will take great skill in the magic arts, particularly extensive training in the dark arts, to understand this monster._ ’

So he had failed then. Joachim was not freed. And it was not as easy as he had thought it would be to free Ebön from the clutches of that foul beast. He had to inform Roman of this and tell them to evacuate.

“What about the other book?” Tobias asked, putting aside the material he had just been reading. Jens smiled a little.

“I am having it worked on. You need not concern yourself with it.”

Tobias wanted to press, to interfere, but he wouldn’t. Perhaps the secrets in that book could save them all. He sighed and kept a hold on the book about Ioanihr. He sank into one of the chairs at Jens’ desk and put his head in his hand.

“Tell me, when was the last time you slept?”

Jens waved his hand and somewhere off in the distance of the empty hall a bell rang. A moment later a young elf, Arne, by Tobias’ reckoning, brought in a tray full of tea and some stew. It smelled wonderful. Tobias nodded his thanks to Arne and picked up the spoon to eat.

“I’m fine.” He replied. “Thank you for the food.”

Jens watched the wizard for a moment and then walked back to his library and looked over the titles again.

“You need to return to your master.” Jens said. “He could use you.”

Tobias raised an eyebrow. The bowl of soup was already half-gone. “What do you mean? I’m working for him now.”

Jens remained silent a moment before he carried over another book. This one was fairly recent in publication but the title is what caught Tobias’ attention. It was called ‘The Warfare of Orks’.

“An army is on its way to your master’s castle. Thousands. He will not survive unless he is given aid.”

The spoon clattered onto the table as Tobias jumped up from his seat and started out of the hall with Jens’ books and a quickly uttered ‘thanks’.

\----

Of course they didn’t listen, Manuel thought as he tried to fight his way back to where Bastian and Marco were holding off a large swarm of the creatures. They hadn’t run as he had asked and now they would all three likely be hurt or worse if nothing gave soon. The moon was letting in only partial light, not enough to make a difference in the favor of the humans. However, the goblins didn’t need the light because they thrived in the darkness. They were a natural enemy to humans and elves alike, for they had no love of either race and only a thirst for land and bloodshed at all costs.

Manuel cursed the fates and the sting in his leg was growing stronger, likely the goblin’s blade had been tainted in a poison of some kind—the creatures had a bad habit of doing things like that—and he would feel not only the effects of the wound, but the poison would finish him off later unless he could treat it. He wouldn’t have to worry about that, though, if he was wounded more gravely by another of the monsters.

Bastian had enough practice of hunting things at night to be able to pick his way across the forest floor without making too much of a fool of himself. His only problem was that he was much better at long distance hunting, like Benedikt was. Hand to hand combat was not his forte, but he was doing fine enough, mainly in part to Marco’s shielding him in the front. Bastian was more or less behind him, near the trees, and had to do less fighting than Marco, in front of him, was having to fend off. 

He would have protested, had Marco not insisted that he was a professional, a soldier, and that he had more experience with this sort of thing. Bastian really didn’t argue when Marco saved his literal neck from being sliced through by a goblin while parrying with another. He got pushed back against the trees rather quickly and he deflected an attack from a goblin while coming in low with another blade and plunged it into the gut of the monster.

As he turned to return to face Marco, a dark cloud swarmed over him and plunged him into a darkness that he couldn’t see through. He strained his eyes looking for a sliver of moonlight, but his senses grew dull also. He couldn’t hear anything of the battle except from what appeared to be quite a distance away. He didn’t panic; he didn’t have the time. Bastian struggled to make sense of what was happening when he heard the whispers. They were soft, tempting and he tried to speak out. He was surprised when he realized he could.

“What? What did you say?” He frowned, straining to listen to the words and when they came louder, he couldn’t understand them. They were in a language he had never heard before. Bastian frowned and felt a sense of dread settling in his stomach. The whispers continued, slowly in a chanting motion and then Bastian felt something slide down his throat, something cold and fluid like, like cold water, and there was nothing he could but swallow it or suffocate underneath the weight of it choking him.

As soon as he swallowed the last of whatever it was, the cloud faded and the roar of the battle continued, only this time there was more shouting and Bastian felt a sense of relief when he recognized the voices. Because it was no longer just him, Marco, and Manuel in the glen fighting goblins.

There were two additional voices.

Two voices they hadn’t heard in a while.

Two voices they had been sent to find.

Benedikt and Mats.

With the extra assistance, the goblins were quickly defeated and the rest scattered when they realized that the trio had gotten help from somewhere. The chattering of the goblins faded into the night and Bastian blinked to regain control of his senses. Something was settling in his stomach, the way a dinner doesn’t settle quite right when you’ve eaten something you shouldn’t have, and he looked around the glen.

Mats was chasing off after the remainder of the goblins that were lingering. Benedikt was checking over the goblins that were slain on the ground, looking for clues, most likely. Marco was crouched down next to Manuel and was looking over his leg and then that’s when Bastian saw it. The large slash and the open wound. Manuel was slumped against a tree and was breathing heavily, the slight moonlight showed a sheen of sweat on his skin. For the first time in a long while, Bastian felt truly afraid.

He moved closer and swallowed hard, ignoring the feeling in his abdomen.

“Where have you been?” Marco asked when he realized Bastian was so close by. He glanced up from Manuel’s wound to look Bastian in the eye and then he refocused on the other man’s leg.

“I’ve been here this whole time…” Bastian replied with a frown. Marco shrugged.

“If that’s the story you want to stick to. We couldn’t find you.” Marco shook his head and looked up to Manuel. “You’re going to need a doctor for this.”

“We can help with that.” Mats replied, jumping down from a half-fallen tree and landed on the ground next to a goblin. He put his sword away and came to stand next to Benedikt. He grinned and looked entirely happy for someone who’d been missing for almost three months who had just walked in on a battle amongst goblins and his friends. Bastian couldn’t place Mats’ happiness. It didn’t make any sense.

“Where did _you_ come from?” He asked with a tilted head and a confused look.

“We could tell you—” Mats started but Benedikt interrupted.

“Let’s just show you.” The blonde moved over to the others and looked at Manuel. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you anyway. Can you walk?”

Manuel tried to take a step and then groaned, eyes closing in pain and he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. He exhaled a sharp ‘no’ and he leaned heavily on Benedikt and Marco, who had both moved forward to catch him as he’d started to fall down.

Benedikt slid his arm around the half-elf’s waist and he held him up.

“That’s all right. It’s not far.”

Bastian moved over to help but Mats took a hold of his arm.

“Help me get your supplies and we’ll catch up.” Mats said and Bastian nodded.

“Okay.”

Mats shared a look with him and then looked back to the three blond men. “We’ll be right back. Be careful. There could be more lurking in the trees that I missed.”

Benedikt didn’t look back over and continued walking. He did, however, call back over his shoulder to Mats. “Are you admitting you may have missed some goblins?”

“Of course not. I’m just warning you that more could have shown up after I cleared the area.”

“Oh, I see. Well in that case it’s all right…” Benedikt replied with a roll of his eyes. Mats mumbled something about ‘annoying gits’ and started walking in the direction Bastian indicated camp to have been.

Despite the fight, Bastian felt relief settling over his disquieted nerves. Mats and Benedikt were back. They hadn’t been killed and they had something to show them. Not only that, but they were close to the dwarves and Manuel’s injuries could be treated without delay. Thank the Gods.

Bastian relaxed a little as he led the way back towards their camp and supplies.

“I’m very glad to see you again.” Bastian told Mats and the other man nodded.

“Likewise. It’s all very strange though,” Mats admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ll see what I mean. Let’s just be quick and catch back up to them. You’ll get the answers to your questions, Basti.”

Mats grinned and slipped his arm around Bastian’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Bastian relaxed for the first time all night as he leaned into the pirate’s body. The other man was warm, strong, and familiar. Already, his nerves were calm again and the excitement of a new adventure was brimming over.

Mats was right; he did have a lot of questions that needed answers. He couldn’t wait to discover them.


	14. A Long Overdue Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're either going to really, really like this chapter or you're gonna hate it. Either way, sorry not sorry ;) Likely no update tomorrow as I'll be very busy, but here's this one and I hope you enjoy :DDD Looks like I may finish before the 1st after all! \0/
> 
> Dedicated to my two lifesavers who I love most dearly and who comforted me when I needed it the most. Thank you Fira, Elma. You two are angels in a world of demons. May your kindness last forever ♥

Thomas was losing his mind.

There was no other way to put it.

He had hidden himself away in the study that his uncle had once considered a refuge and he was holding his knees against his chest. He wasn’t rocking his body back and forth, but he was tempted to. He was too young for this, too inexperienced. He was absolutely positive he was going to have a mental breakdown.

The worst part of all of it was the fact he _knew_ what he was doing was wrong, was cowardly. But he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t feel like a king of men, or a ruler of people. He felt like a scared child that needed someone to coddle him and tell him everything was going to be okay. He hated the feeling that he was shirking his responsibilities as a ruler, but he couldn’t face anyone now.

He could hear them. The sound of the drums outside the walls and the roar of the ork army. Mario had returned that morning from another scouting report. Thomas had asked him not to go, but the ranger had refused and had slipped out after dark. He’d come back at first light, mercifully with no new injuries, and had reported that they would be in front of the castle walls before nightfall. They could be heard now causing quite the ruckus.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the army of goblins had been seen crossing at night over the Hills of Carda, and were now one night away from the bridges to the east. Thomas had given the order to have the bridges burned and with them, the last hope he had for escape except for the river. But they would have to get past goblins on one side and orks to the west. No, they had to defend Ansieál or there was no hope for anyone.

To make it all that much worse, another letter had arrived from Roman that morning also. It had arrived just after Mario and it had been quickly jotted down. The courier who had sent it was out of breath on top of an exhausted horse; they had not delayed a moment in their ride southwest to the castle.

‘My King,’ Roman had started, ‘I send my greatest regrets to inform you of the following circumstances. I will apologize again in person if I get to the capital to beg your forgiveness myself. In the event I don’t make it, the events transpired as follows:

Joachim, or the thing that he has become, has escaped.

The fortress that we were all in has been burned and raised, almost to the ground. The prisoners that were in my charge are all dead or escaped, mostly dead rather than the latter. The evilness that dwelled in our fortress has gone with him, though that is the only positive. We tried to follow him to the east, but any who did so were slain with black magic. He disappeared over the river into the east where a large company of goblins, I cannot estimate how many there are for they are shrouded in a cloak of blackness, and he has not been seen from since.

The company of goblins heads south, not only from the way of Carda but also from the north on the Eastern Road, coming from Usher. They travel at night or by day under that black cloud. I will do my level best with the men I have with me to delay them as long as I can. If we fail, which I imagine we ultimately will, I will give the order for my men and myself to fall back into the castle where we can defend that and you sire to our last breath if it be your will.

I am so sorry, Thomas. I would fall upon my sword in your name with an apology as my final words if that be what you wish of me.

Yours most humbly,

Roman.’

Joachim, escaped. Army of goblins. Army of orks. How in the world could anyone deal with this?

He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees and then he placed his head in his hands. He was tired; he needed sleep. He needed food. He needed an _answer_ to this problem. He had none of those. How did one summon the strength in the face of certain death? How did one deal with these problems and keep their sanity intact?

How did a king order the death of honorable men in pursuit of a defense of a fortress that he knew would never withstand an attack of such unprecedented scale?

Thomas felt his control slipping through his fingers and he sighed, pushing himself up to stand. He stretched his tired and stiff muscles and tried to reclaim any shadow of his sanity. Joachim, or whatever was left of him, could wait. He had a strong feeling that whatever was going on with the former advisor for the country had something to do with the orks and goblins that were now threatening Thomas’ very life and that of his countrymen. As much as he wanted the mystery solved, and he really and truly did, he had to first deal with the bigger problem. The fact that the army was there in the first place and wasn’t going to go away without one hell of a fight.

Thomas moved over to look at the books in his uncle’s study about warfare and military strategy to come up with something—anything—to assist in his battle. He would have to go back out soon. He would have to face them all with a plan that would inspire hope and the chance of winning against the enemy. He would have to believe it himself, or at least convince them that he did.

He spent several hours over it, precious time that he didn’t have to waste, and came up with a plan that he believed would at least get them to last through the night. Armed with this in mind, Thomas started back down to the keep and where Sebastian was waiting with the other members of the guard.

He crossed under one of the gates and nodded to Lukasz, who joined him at his side readily.

“Any word?” Lukasz shook his head and Thomas sighed. He had sent a messenger after Tobias in the west and another to the north to ask Marco, Manuel, and Bastian to return as soon as they could. He felt bad about that. At least if they were away from the capital, then maybe they had a chance of survival on their own one day. Perhaps they would find Mats and Benedikt and all of them could sail away into the Southern Sea and leave Antiá behind and the ghosts of the past.

Maybe they had already been killed by goblins or orks or something and Thomas would never know either way. Pain took hold in his heart at that thought as he felt such a sadness that was so real that he hadn’t felt such loss since the day Miroslav died. He hoped, prayed, that that was not the case.

Lukasz was still in-step beside him though and he cleared his throat, earning a look from the king.

“Roman’s here. He made it back with Shkodran and a couple of others.”

Thomas’ heart sank. If Roman was back with a handful of soldiers then it meant that the goblins were close enough to the city and they would join up with the ones coming from the east. The orks were to the west, just outside the city. He would have to make sure his plan would work, long enough. Perhaps they would get lucky. Gods be, they had to have some luck, right?

Thomas moved to where Sebastian was speaking to Roman, who looked exhausted and beaten but bowed as low as he could when he saw Thomas.

“Get up Roman, you are more than forgiven.” Thomas replied, resting his hand lightly on the other man’s shoulder. He overlooked the wall and felt nauseous. The black banners of the ork army were right over the wall. He could hear shouts in their strange tongue. He looked to the east and saw a black cloud coming down the Eastern Road.

He was out of time.

“This is what we’re going to do,” Thomas said as he remembered that he had a plan. Sebastian turned to him, Roman’s eyes had never left him, and Lukasz just looked anxious. What he wouldn’t give to have his friends by his side now. He shook his head and started to outline his defense and saw that Sebastian wasn’t nodding along. He wasn’t supporting his decision. Thomas’ heart sank even lower, if that was at all possible.

“A breach!”

The shout came from the courtyard below and Thomas spun around to see the soldier pointing into the keep of the castle. Sebastian moved over and called to him.

“What’s that you say?”

The guard calmed his panic and looked up to his superior officer. “A breach sir, intruders in the castle.”

Sebastian swore under his breath. “Which way did they go?”

“Here we are. Aren’t you happy to see us?”

Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes. Nor could any of the others standing on top of the curtain wall surrounding the courtyard.

Stepping into the light from the keep, where the guard had indicated, was not only Marco—who all of the king’s guard were relieved to see—but Manuel as well, though it was with a great lurch of feeling that Thomas noticed he was limping slightly, favoring his right leg. Happier still, besides the two of them was Bastian who blinked in the bright sunlight that they had walked in to.

Thomas couldn’t believe it further when Mats and Benedikt strolled out into the sunlight arm-in-arm, though Benedikt looked annoyed at a grinning Mats who was busy waving to Thomas.

“What magic is this?” Thomas whispered and called into the courtyard louder as he couldn’t believe it. He didn’t put it past the orks or goblins to have some sort of dark magic that would lead a person to believe the impossible had happened. “What magic is this? How is it you came to be here?”

Thomas had his sword drawn from instinct and he looked at the group of his friends in the courtyard. Bastian had lifted a hand and shielded his eyes from the sun while looking at Thomas.

“It’s us Thomas.” He replied calmly and frowned when he saw Thomas looking wary of them still.

“That doesn’t answer my questions.” Thomas replied and stared at the group of them. Until he had an answer, a reasonable, logical answer, he wasn’t going to stand down. “I will ask one final time. How is it that you came to be here?”

“I am afraid that would be my doing, Thomas.”

The sword dropped from Thomas’ hand and it clattered against the stones of the curtain wall. It wasn’t possible for his eyes to be any wider, he thought, as he stared at the latest person to walk out from the shadow of the keep. None could believe it. Not even Sebastian, who was the most logical, rational man that Thomas could think of. Except for the man who had just appeared.

“It’s not possible.” Thomas shook his head, his voice reduced to little more than a whisper. “You’re dead. You’ve been dead.”

The tears formed in his eyes as his throat closed tightly. He was in too much shock to do much of anything except whisper. He didn’t react as the person who came out of the shadows began to climb up the stairs to the curtain wall. The soldiers that had been on the stairs made a wide berth, from shock more than anything else. Even Lukasz stepped aside as the man came to stop in front of the king.

As Thomas’ watery eyes met the impossibly-blue ones of the long-gone man he had loved more than anything, he still couldn’t believe it. Miroslav.

Everything faded away. The sound of both armies outside his castle, the stares of his soldiers and his friends, the thud of his own heart faded and then there was only one thing left. Miroslav. The wizard was alive and here.

Thomas did the only thing he had dreamt of doing a thousand times, prayed for a million more. How many times had he thought if he could only see him again one more time? If he could only speak to him one last time?

He threw his arms around Miroslav and the last reluctant part of his mind broke when, to his everlasting relief, his arms did not go through Miroslav’s body. He held the wizard as tightly as possible, reassured even more when Miro’s arms came around him. The smell of him was strange, not his normal scent, it was fresher somehow, as if he’d been lying in grass for all this time instead of in his tomb where Thomas thought he had been.

“How—?” Thomas whispered and he was pretty sure that Miro was the only one who could hear him.

“It’s not important now.” Miroslav replied just as softly but Thomas’ instincts were back instantly again and he tore himself out of Miroslav’s arms.

“The hell it isn’t!” Thomas grabbed the other man’s arm and pulled him down the rest of the curtain wall until they reached the stairs. “You’re going to explain this to me. We’ll be back!”

Thomas shouted to Sebastian. “Put up a defense, this won’t take long.”

Sebastian snapped back to the present and began to give orders. Somehow he got everyone moving around and the only person not still in shock as Thomas and Miroslav disappeared into the keep was Mats, who was too busy grinning ear-to-ear at the pair of them to listen to Sebastian’s orders.

The king and the wizard did not stop until Thomas had entered the hall of kings. It was no longer as cold as the previous times he had been inside. He kept a strong grip on Miroslav’s arm, more to make sure he was still there than anything else, and he stopped right next to Miroslav’s tomb. The crack was still there, just as it had been the last time Thomas had seen it. It had not changed. Thomas pointed as his eyes blazed with fury as he turned to face Miroslav then.

“This. This is where I left you.”

Thomas’ eyes burned with the tears that he wasn’t going to shed. He was still too much in shock to react properly.

“I deserve a God-damn explanation.”

Miroslav nodded. “You do, Thomas. And you will have one. But now isn’t the time—”

“Yes it fucking is. I’m making it the time.” Thomas replied and swallowed hard. “For five years, Miroslav. Five _fucking_ years. Where have you been? You were dead!”

Miroslav took a brief glance at the tomb, running his fingers parallel to the crack and he sighed. Thomas waited for him to speak, too high on passion for him to calm down. He was almost shaking with repressed emotions that he was having a hard time keeping his composure, his control.

“Thomas, I was dead. That’s the easiest way of explaining it.” Miro flicked his eyes back to Thomas’ gaze; Thomas was more than eager to hold that expression. “I promise, I swear to you, I will explain it all in the detail you want, if you want it, later. Now isn’t the time for that part of it.”

“ _Were_ dead?” Thomas asked, surprised that his voice seemed so in-control despite the chaos going on inside of his own mind.

“Magic is a thing not to be trifled with, Thomas. And dwarves are surprisingly talented individuals.”

Thomas frowned. “What do dwarves have to do with anything?”

Miroslav smiled a little and took Thomas’ hand in his own. He brought it to the lip of the wizard’s tomb, on the underside where he pressed Thomas’ fingers against the cold stone.

“What do you feel?” Miroslav asked.

Cold? Freaked out? Upset? Exhausted? Thomas thought to himself but didn’t speak aloud. He shrugged and felt the stone for any discrepancies like he had done a hundred times before since the crack appeared. And then he paused. He felt something.

Thomas ducked to look at the underside of the tomb and he was frowning. That hadn’t been there before, no way. He would have noticed it. With a heart-stopping moment of accuracy, Thomas realized that he had been looking at the top of the stone for imperfections, not underneath it. He stared at Miro while still half-bent over looking at the stone.

“Dwarvish runes, if you find them.” Miroslav replied softly. “A spell.”

Thomas straightened. “That doesn’t explain where you were. I still only have more questions!”

Miroslav shook his head at Thomas’ impatience, but the slight smile he had playing on his lips remained. It was nice to see the young king had not changed.

“The night the tower fell, I was dying. The Valkyrie came as they always must, only they did not take me to Valhalla as they are supposed to.” Miroslav spoke softly and Thomas’ heart _ached_ when he realized how much he had missed that tone of voice. Just the voice of the man in general, he corrected with a pang. “I went to Velolduhr instead.”

Thomas blinked, uncomprehending. “To where?”

“Dear me, I would have thought Manuel would have told you.” Miroslav frowned a little at that, disappointed that there had been a breakdown in communication somewhere. “Never mind. Very briefly, Velolduhr is the dwarves’ Valhalla. It is their final resting place. It is a paradise.”

Thomas frowned, not partial of the words ‘paradise’ and ‘afterlife’ especially when it was Miroslav saying them. He still hadn’t gotten over the shock that Miro was actually _here_. He kept praying that this wasn’t a dream. His tone came out rather sulkily then, when he spoke next.

“That doesn’t explain to me why you are here now.”

If he looked frustrated at his lack of comprehension, Miroslav didn’t show it. Patiently, as he always had been, he explained.

“Very well. I shall try to keep it as brief as possible. Many centuries ago, in my travels in the realm during the old Ages, when the dwarves were still as populated as they had once been, I stayed with them a while. I kept a journal of my experiences there, especially that documenting Velolduhr. I never saw the place then; it is fortunate for me that I did not.” Miroslav shook his head and continued.

“Regardless of that, I left the dwarves after a time and resumed my travels. Through the ages, they began to vanish. I did not come to know why until quite recently, but that is another story for another time. In that book I placed, not only my experiences with the dwarven lords, but also a part of my soul, an imprint if you like as what I had assumed to be a provision, just in case something should happen to me. Upon the night the Tower fell, I died Thomas, truly I did. The Valkyrie came for me and, as had been arranged, I went to Velolduhr instead where I waited.”

“It took longer than I expected, but mercifully, Philipp came back to the realm of Angûr and he had found the documents I had left behind for him in the North mountains. It was then that he departed from the North and arrived in your castle with the most precious of stones, _baraz-dûm_ , the Red Hall stone. Tell me, if you look at it, what do you feel?”

Thomas hadn’t given much thought to the ruby since it had arrived. He frowned in thought, trying to recall it as Miroslav had suggested. He felt…uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t in the right skin, as if something was missing that could settle him down.

“Uncomfortable, fidgety.” He paused and continued to think of it. “I need to see it, that stone. Perhaps, perhaps I’ll calm down.”

He had taken a few steps towards the door to retrieve it from the vault when Miroslav caught his arm. Something warning in Miro’s eyes caused Thomas to snap back to the present situation.

“The Red Hall stone causes great strife for those that wish to possess it. It is the downfall of men.”

“Then why was it brought here?” Thomas asked, shifting closer to the wizard and he pressed their bodies together in a hug. This was _much_ better of an embrace than the one he would have had he left to clutch the gem against his chest.

“It is no mere stone. It is a magical object, capable of such great feats. Let me finish the story and let me be quick about it so we can return to aid our friends.” Thomas nodded so Miroslav continued, keeping the young king in his arms.

“Philipp’s visit was more of a ploy than anything else, I am forced to say honestly. We needed to get the stone here, as nearby to my tomb as possible. Sometime during the night, Philipp had come in here and left those runes as you noticed. It was then that the stone cracked. He then left with Mats and Benedikt in the adventure that they had arranged. That was not of my doing,” Miroslav added, “but the two of them love an adventure and better them than anyone, I suppose.”

“What happened to them?” Thomas shifted and looked at Miroslav warily. “They just vanished.”

Miroslav nodded and answered his question, though his story about his own resurrection was not yet complete. “They were taken to the province of Angûr, just as Philipp said. And I have no doubts whatsoever that they learned about dwarven culture. I’m just afraid they were not really very consciously doing so.”

“What’s that mean?”

“They were put into a trance at their arrival. The Halls of Angûr are empty, and have been for quite a long time. To say it simply, they were dreaming for weeks on end. The adventures they had there existed only in their minds.” Miroslav shrugged a little. “Never upset a dwarf, my love. Their magic is quite potent at the best of times and malicious tricksters they can be when slighted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Thomas mumbled and Miroslav kissed Thomas’ temple. The feel of his lips on his skin made Thomas’ shiver. God it was so good, and yet not enough. He needed more, more contact, more touching. But as Miroslav had said, there wasn’t enough time for that. Unfortuantely.

“How did you come back?” Thomas asked quietly, waiting to hear the final piece of the puzzle. He guessed something to do with the stone and the runes, but he wanted to hear it just the same.

“The stone’s magic, the spell that Philipp had carved into the rock, and my own forethought left in that journal did it. When the time was right, when you needed me the most, it happened as a process. The magic between the linked objects roused me and pulled me back from Velolduhr and I, in turn, roused Mats and Benedikt and explained to them what had happened. They did not believe me at first, but they came round once I recounted part of our quest from before to them. I am pleased to see that they found one another, though I think Benedikt is the more rational of the two where Mats is perhaps more selfish, alas…” He trailed off with a smile on his face before he returned to Thomas’ eyes.

“I still have questions.” Thomas spoke seriously and Miroslav nodded.

“I know you do. And I have plenty of answers for you. However, as I have said and as you very well know, now is not the time for this.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” Miroslav would have given him anything, if only he could take the hurt away so easily. Thomas didn’t ask for favors or that very thing, though he wanted it. What he wanted was time.

“Promise me you will never leave my side again. Ever.” Thomas asked and Miroslav shook his head, smile still in place.

The wizard leaned over and kissed him softly at first, but as Thomas melded into his body, Miro groaned and pulled him closer. Thomas’ hands gripped tightly to the other wizard’s shoulders and he thanked the Valkyrie, thanked the Gods, for this chance. He wasn’t going to waste it.

“I have a plan to save us,” Miroslav murmured against Thomas’ lips.

_At last. Hope._

“What is it?”

Miroslav smiled a little and kissed Thomas again. “Simple, really. A slight trick, but you will have to forgive me. I will need to leave your side, if only for a moment to put a few people into place, but I swear I will be right back with no harm done to my person.”

Thomas’ grip tightened on Miroslav’s body, almost painfully so, but he nodded slowly.

“Only if you swear you’ll come straight back and not go anywhere else.”

“You have my most solemn word, your majesty.” Miroslav bowed his head in respect and Thomas felt a pang. His title, from the lips of his lover, he couldn’t stand it. He kissed Miro again.

“Then save us all. And thank you, so much. I cannot begin to tell you how—”

“I know Thomas. And it is I that should be thanking you for your forgiveness. I have missed you dearly. For all its beauties and charms, there is one thing that I find Velolduhr lacks considerably in.”

The wizard slipped his arm around Thomas’ waist and they started for the door back to the keep and the battle that sounded like it was going on outside.

“What’s that?” Thomas asked and he chewed his lip. He was still anxious. He had almost forgotten in his delight that there was still a battle that desperately needed to be fought outside his castle.

“Velolduhr doesn’t have you, my love.” The wizard replied and Thomas shook his head, but squeezed his arm around Miroslav.

“Maybe one day I shall see it, but not for a long while.”

“Indeed not. I plan on keeping both of us around for at least another Age, if not longer.” Miro winked and Thomas felt the sagging weight of relief slip off of his shoulders. They would do this. They would survive.

As the pair of them left the Hall of the Kings, Lukasz was running down the hall in their direction. They both paused and Lukasz looked out of breath as he caught up to them.

“The battle begins,” he said, breathing heavily. “Your Majesty, already some men have fallen. The orks are strong, too strong.”

Miroslav pulled away from Thomas at those words and looked at Thomas. “Trust me?” Thomas nodded with only a moment’s hesitation. “I shall return to you, you have my word.” The wizard then turned to face Lukasz and spoke in an authoritative voice. “My dear Piszczu, I want you to bring Sebastian, Mats, and a few of the strongest men you can find and meet me in the courtyard in the garden as soon as you can.”

Lukasz frowned at that but nodded. “Very well sir, but Sebastian may not come with me.”

“Tell him it was my orders that he do as he is asked.” Thomas butted in authoritatively.

“As you wish, sire.” Lukasz then turned on his heel and took off running again for his commander.

Thomas faced his lover and was met with another peck to the cheek and a whispered ‘I will be back’ before he disappeared in the corridor into thin air and Thomas desperately hoped it wasn’t all a dream and he had finally gone mad.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas shoved aside all thoughts of doubt and he focused on the trust he had in the wizard and his ability before he hastened his pace and began to run after where Lukasz had disappeared to.

Already outside the sounds of bloodthirsty orks and their war cries had begun to mix with the sound of the goblins as the dark cloud that hovered over their army began to block out the sun and cast all of Ansieál into a dark shadow.


	15. A New Vexation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, written for my three muses. :* More coming soon to a computer screen near you!

Miro, Mats, and a few of the others, including Sebastian, were gone by the time Thomas and Lukasz had arrived back at the curtain wall. A large portion of the guard was still waiting for orders and a commander, though Marco had remained behind and Thomas gave a nod for him to resume his old duties in leading the Royal Guard. Thomas went to his long-absent friend then and stopped beside him. On the other side of his defenses, a volley of arrows was clattering over the side of the wall and Marco was keeping low to avoid being struck by an errant shot.

“Sebastian’s gone, Miroslav took him.” Marco replied for explanation when Thomas looked inquisitive. “Think it will work?”

“What?” Thomas asked when he overlooked the wall through a small break in the stone.

“This plan of Miroslav’s. He’s been, for all intents and purposes, asleep for a long time, who’s he to say this will work?”

Marco looked over his shoulder when Thomas didn’t immediately answer. The king was looking at him with a scowl and a look of utter disappointment. Marco shook his head and then returned to overlooking the wall.

“Just thought I would ask.”

“Yes, well keep your opinions to yourself, won’t you?” Thomas stated sharply, the fear of failure already too likely of a thought on his mind. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if this failed. His last hope, in fact his _only_ hope, was the success of whatever Miroslav had planned. If the wizard—who, as Marco had rightly stated—failed them all, then Thomas didn’t think he would be able to bear it.

Fortunately for him, they would all be dead so he wouldn’t have to bear it for very long if they did not succeed. Still, Thomas rather hoped that would not be the case. He would, more than anything, like to grow old with the wizard and live for half an Age if not longer with Miroslav close at hand. The fact that he wasn’t now wasn’t doing much for his anxiety, but the relief he felt at being helped by something at last was calming his overwrought nerves and Thomas was very, very grateful to the Gods for giving him this gift. He would never be able to repay them, and he would still need to have an extremely long talk with Miroslav after all of this was over, but for now, he was going to gratefully accept the peace of mind he now had thanks to the wizard’s mere presence.

Lukasz gave both his commander and his king a look before he glanced through the same small break in the stone. He swallowed hard. He had never seen such an army before. In what had been the fields that stretched from horizon to horizon outside of Ansieál only a few days before, only yesterday, a sea of black banners and foul-looking beasts stretched as far as the grasslands had once. Lukasz swallowed and tightened his hold on the handle of his sword. This would be no easy fight, wizard or not.

 

Below them in the south garden of the courtyard of the castle, Miroslav was finishing up telling Sebastian of their plan before he was going to tell Mats. The wizard saw Bastian lingering in the shadows of the cloisters and he shook his head, changing his course to move over to the young blond instead of the adventurous pirate. Something had not been quite right with the blond boy ever since Miroslav had roused and he aimed to find out just what that was.

“Bastian, how are you my friend?” Miroslav asked patiently, as if they had all the time in the world and would be catching up over a nice cup of tea instead of something more sinister as a battle.

Bastian nodded. “I’m fine. I am okay.”

Miroslav watched him warily for a moment, scrutinizing of the young man in front of him. Something wasn’t right about him, something was definitely not-Bastian about himself, but he couldn’t place what that was exactly. Perhaps it was the upcoming battle; that could rattle anyone. Perhaps he missed his family; all too well did he understand missing loved ones. Perhaps he was just as tired as the rest of them were because they had a long way still to go. Maybe it was all of that and more. Regardless, Miroslav made a note to keep an eye on him in the future, not only during this battle but after it as well.

“Very well then. I want you to do something very important for me, can you do it?” Miroslav asked, reaching into his robes. He waited for Bastian to either nod or shake his head first, he wasn’t going to give the other man an order; Bastian nodded and Miroslav smiled a little before he handed over a large leather bag that was full of vials of a clear liquid. “I want you to drink one of these and then pass them to our comrades here. It’s very important that everyone has had one, both inside the castle and out of it. If they are of Antiá, it is vitally important they drink one.”

Bastian nodded and then looked into the bag. “Won’t I run out?”

Miroslav simply smiled and squeezed Bastian’s shoulder. “Trust me, my friend. You won’t run out until my request is over. You will have no fear of that, take my word.”

Bastian nodded and then broke the wax seal on one before he downed it in one gulp under Miroslav’s watchful eye. The wizard nodded then clasped his shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and then turned to go. Bastian felt the liquid, which tasted like nothing and was not particularly hot nor cold, slide down his throat and settle in his belly. With the nerves or whatever it was in there, it did not mix well and he felt nauseous. Cramps started in his belly but he forced himself to do the duty that Miroslav asked of him, only now he looked pale and a sheen of sweat had broken out on his skin.

But as much as he thought it would, the bag did not empty as he continued to hand out the vials.

 

Benedikt stood in the courtyard, next to Mats who he always would try to be near, and he was watching the pirate assemble his men. What was left of his crew, that had lingered in Ansieál while their captain and first mate had gone on a quest after the captain’s friends, were now listening to him give orders. Once he had finished, Mats turned to face Benedikt.

“I can still go with you.” It was the first thing he said because he wasn’t sure what else to say. He hadn’t been away or apart from Mats very much in almost five years. There had been that one time where trolls had separated them, but that had only been a handful of days. Benedikt didn’t want to leave Mats alone. It was risky, dangerous, foolish what they were about to do—as he had understood Miroslav’s plan—and there was nothing else he would rather do, he had learned long ago, than stand next to Mats.

Mats shook his head. “We can’t have all the good soldiers on this scheme of Miro’s now can we? Someone needs to defend Thomas and the castle.” He smiled a little and pulled Benedikt closer, close enough to kiss his cheek and pull him into a hug. Benedikt wrapped his arms around the other man and held on tight. “Besides, Mario could use his friend and Thomas can definitely use your eyes and ears.”

Benedikt knew it to be true; if Mats hadn’t said so enough before, Miro had just done so also a moment ago, telling him to keep an eye out and keep track of Thomas for him while he was gone. It was still strange to see the wizard after so long, but Benedikt wasn’t going to complain about it. He would much prefer to be going into battle with a wizard back from the dead than no wizard at all. Where Tobias was was anyone’s guess. It was still hard to believe what Miroslav had said about his and Mats’ trance in the first place, never mind the fact that now they were apparently going to be fighting a giant army of orks, goblins, and who knew what else.

“Just make sure you take care of yourself, okay?” Benedikt asked, squeezing Mats in the process. “Don’t do anything stupid. Or selfish.”

“You and this selfish thing.” Mats rolled his eyes and started to take a step back. Benedikt let him, but only so he could look the other man in the eyes.

“I mean it, promise it to me. Nothing stupid, selfish, or incredibly dangerous.” Benedikt stared into his eyes and Mats shook his head, already turning away.

“I’ll be fine, Benny.” Mats walked back and checked the tightness of his belt that his sword was currently sheathed in. “I promise, if it makes you happy.”

“It does.” Benedikt replied, happy at last that Mats was at least going to try. Even if he wasn’t, he had said he would and that would do enough for now, until Benedikt saw him again.

“But you have to promise me that you will take care of yourself also.” Mats replied, facing the blond again and there was no smile or teasing look in his eyes that would normally have been there. His tone was strong, not overly threatening or demanding, but still left no question for the seriousness in which he held the words. He was solemn and Benedikt filed it away for things to think about later; it wasn’t often that Mats was ever somber about anything unless it was about the _Hades_ , or Benedikt himself.

“Of course I won’t. I’m not like you.” Benedikt replied and the words that he didn’t say stretched between them awkwardly. _I’m not selfish like you are._

Mats didn’t react to that at first; he didn’t flinch or seem to shut him out, which Benedikt was grateful for. He hadn’t meant it the way it seemed. It had just been something that came out with his emotions running higher than normal, that was all. Mats simply nodded once, eyes still dark and grave, as he spoke again.

“Good. See that you don’t.”

With that, he turned and strode back over to his men and where Miroslav was returning from the cloisters of the courtyard. Benedikt saw that Manuel was heading into the castle along with Bastian. He shook his head and sighed, hoping that this would go as well as Miroslav had seemed to hope. Benedikt nodded once to the wizard in acknowledgement before he turned his attention back to Mats.

“Good luck,” he said before he started after Bastian and Manuel.

“And you as well, Benedikt.” Miroslav answered in place of Mats who only looked over and nodded once, still no smile on his handsome face. Miro smiled politely and then turned to face the group of men in front of him.

Mats was readying his crew and apart from him and Miroslav, the only ones that Benedikt recognized from the castle were Sebastian and Roman, who he had just been introduced to by Marco when Thomas and Miroslav disappeared into the castle. Sebastian and Roman were standing next to one another and were discussing something in great detail; Benedikt hoped it was a way to end this battle with as few lives lost as possible.

Benedikt entered the castle and he hoped this plan would work. He hadn’t been told all of it, but he had enough of an idea to imagine what Miroslav was up to. A diversion. It would work if they were not discovered. As the sky above Ansieál grew unnaturally dark for this time of day, Benedikt wondered how that plan could remain secret. No normal clouds were these, they were far too ominous to be this dark and not be bearing a storm of some nature. The wind had not changed and there was no smell of rain in the air; this storm would not be of nature’s making.

He entered the castle and returned to the cobble-stoned courtyard and began to climb the wall. He reported to Thomas and bowed slightly.

“What would you ask of me, Thomas?” He watched the king and put aside his fears for his lover out of his mind. He now had the duty to his king, his friend, and to himself to stay alive. Alive for Mats and their future together.

Thomas looked a little relieved to see him and pulled him into a spontaneous hug to prove it. Benedikt was too surprised to react and quickly Thomas released him before straightening his armor.

“Did you see Miroslav?” He asked and there was the same need and fear in his voice that Benedikt likely would have had in his own if one were to bring up Mats in that moment. Benedikt nodded instead and hoped he kept the look of sympathy for the young king off of his face. He could only imagine what it would be like to see your One return from the grave and then have to let them go for a battle, risking seeing them again for the freedom of your own kingdom. Benedikt was glad that he didn’t have to make such a desperate choice, though he had not looked forward to his own.

“I did, yes. He is readying the makings of his plan.” Benedikt replied and Thomas nodded once. “If you like, I can go find Mario and we can look for weakness in the enemy’s army?”

Thomas considered it for a moment and then swallowed hard. “Wait, wait for Miroslav to return.”

Something panicky, fearful about whether or not Miro would in fact return or not, was evident in Thomas’ entire body. Benedikt just hoped it wouldn’t mess with the man’s reactions and decision-making skills.

“As you wish, Thomas.” Benedikt replied and then fell into place next to Marco and he looked over the ork army and felt something settle low into his belly. This wasn’t going to be easy.

The cloud of darkness finally eclipsed the sun completely and everything was now in a shroud of twilight. The low chortle of goblins could be heard and Benedikt drew his sword just as a precaution. Marco was already on it.

“Ready yourselves men. Keep yourselves alert.” He commanded. “If it is ork or goblin, strike it down.”

Like a great swarm, the chortles became laughter and it spread over the wall and into the castle. The goblins had arrived, but with a chilling feeling, Benedikt realized they were not alone. The air had grown cold, though no breeze stirred, and from behind them all he heard a voice unlike one he had ever heard before, yet still had a familiar sound to it.

Together Marco, Thomas, Benedikt, Lukasz, and Bastian who had arrived only a moment before, turned and Benedikt almost dropped his sword when he saw who was standing there. With solid black eyes and a cloud of black smoke around him, floated Joachim and he was staring at Thomas.

“Have you missed me, king?” The voice spoke to them and Benedikt wanted to shudder; he wasn’t sure if he had, to be honest. Bastian looked ill, as if he would divulge the contents of his stomach at any moment. Marco gripped his sword tighter and Lukasz made a protective move to stand a little bit in front of Thomas, ready to move closer if needed to shield the king.

“What do you want?” Thomas asked bravely. “Why do you do this?”

The thing in Joachim’s body smiled and never had there been an uglier sight than that because it was no smile that ever expressed any kind of cheer.

“I want the world that was promised to me long before you existed, puny king. I want the one who promised me all and then failed to deliver. I have come to collect my debt and you will give it to me.” Joachim’s eyes blazed in his skull and Benedikt shifted a little closer to Thomas as well. There was nothing promising that was in the way Joachim was staring at the king, nothing at all.

“I have no debt to you.” Thomas replied and Lukasz was impressed with his bravery.

“I did not say _you_ did. Listen, foolish boy, when I speak. I have come to collect and I need nothing more from you than what I will take and my debt will be repaid.”

“You have been repaid.”

Another voice, this one familiar, came across the wall and Thomas looked relieved once again, though confusion was still very much a part of his countenance. The five of them looked at Miroslav, who stood on the wall of the keep with them all, with hope.

“Not yet, I haven’t.”

Joachim smiled then and raised his hand, causing Thomas to be lifted high into the air. He struggled, but there was nothing to struggle against. Invisible bands held him in place and his eyes went wide with fear as he stared at Miroslav. Joachim them moved Thomas so that he was floating over the wall, on the side in which orks were fighting. Benedikt swallowed his panic. If an ork or goblin archer took a shot, they would undoubtedly hit him and Thomas wouldn’t stand a chance. Nor would he be able to survive if Joachim suddenly dropped him on the other side of the wall; whether it would have been height of the fall, crushing of another army, or simply torturous ends by an evil race, none of them would have led to Thomas’ survival.

Joachim smiled malevolently and released his hold on Thomas, sending the king falling towards the army below the wall. He spoke in even, sadistic tones while both Lukasz, Marco, and Benedikt all rushed to the wall to see if they couldn’t grab Thomas before he fell past them.

“But I will be.”


	16. Bring It Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot developments, some more questions, and likely another cliffhanger ending? Sounds like I updated again…… :D
> 
> Enjoy my friends!

He was falling; he was sure of it. A strange weight left his stomach as it lurched suddenly and he was going down, down towards the army below the wall. He looked up and saw the dark cloud covering the blue of the sky, and the tannish-gray of the stone of his castle wall. He saw the concerned look on his two guardsmen and his friend’s faces as he went quickly down past them. Thomas couldn’t see Miroslav, which was the worst of it all, he thought. He wanted the wizard to be the last thing he saw before he died.

It was strange, Thomas thought, how much time passed as he fell. It felt like moments, hours, but it was really only seconds. Rationally, he knew it was not possible for there to be a longer delay of time, but there it was. He did not see his life flash before his eyes; no kaleidoscope of happy memories that swirled around painful ones of loss or pain, no pleasure that swirled into despair. All he saw was the sky and the castle that he had grown up in and the sound of a loud, raging army beneath him.

He wasn’t going to die with his eyes closed and his heart in his throat from fear. He was going to grip his sword tight in hand and fight his way out of it for as long as he could. Thomas tightened the grip on the steel-bound sword handle and felt the tension start in his arm as he tightened his jaw to look as fierce as possible when he hit the ground and landed to fight the army that was waiting on him.

Only it never came.

Thomas was falling, he was still very positive about that, but then he felt an arm around his waist and then he was no longer looking at the sky. A strangely familiar scent of a man crossed his senses, but he didn’t have time to register it, before his feet were underneath him again, only he was surrounded by a forest of trees instead of an army and Ansieál was gone.

He was just in a forest, with colorful leaves at his feet that crunched as he spun around taking in his surroundings. The scent of autumn was ever-present and he spun around, sword at the ready and he would have attacked had he not recognized his savior.

“Tobias? What the hell!” Thomas exclaimed, adrenaline mixed dangerously with his being startled and he started to shake from the emotion of it all. He almost dropped his sword, his arm was shaking so much.

Tobias shook his head and watched the king warily, making sure he wasn’t going to strike out at him because he hadn’t recognized his companion or his surroundings, of the forest near Thrush near the hidden Elven Road that would go back towards Indéne.

“You’re welcome Thomas.” Tobias replied dryly and saw the other man start to relax. “Miroslav told me that I would need to be ready to get you. He didn’t trust Joachim at all.”

“For good reason! Where the hell did you come from?” Thomas asked, voice still high pitched from his near-death experience. “Where have you been?” Thomas shook his head and held up his hand so that Tobias wouldn’t answer. Neither of those questions were the one he really wanted an answer to. They weren’t important, not as important as the question. “You _knew_ about Miroslav?!”

Tobias saw the hurt and the rage in Thomas’ eyes and he shook his head quickly.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Then how did you know what he would need?” Thomas asked hotly.

Tobias sighed and realized that he couldn’t get back to the rest of Miroslav’s orders without a proper explanation to Thomas. Didn’t he understand that now just wasn’t the time for this? He pushed aside his reservations and quickly rushed into his explanation.

“I was in Jens’ realm speaking to him about the monster that currently leads the army plaguing the castle. I was on my way back when I heard my master’s voice speaking to me. I thought it was a delusion, but it was so real, like the connection we used to have before he died. I thought it was a trick, but I agreed to meet the voice in the North mountains before all of them returned back to Ansieál. It was him and I couldn’t believe it. We don’t have much time Thomas. Basically, he just asked me to be on alert should I be needed and as it turned out, luckily I was.”

Thomas relaxed as he continued. A perfectly rational explanation, he thought after a moment and he nodded, sheathing his sword again. He was no longer shaking, though he still hadn’t quite gotten used to Miroslav’s return from the grave. He still had questions that had to be answered, but both Miroslav and now Tobias were right, now wasn’t the time.

“What else did he tell you?” Thomas asked, wanting insight into Miroslav’s full plans. Why did it always seem that no one knew one-hundred percent of the plan except for Miroslav? It always seemed that they knew their part, but not the full plan. He was really going to have to talk to the wizard about these trust issues. Thomas added it to the list of things he was going to need to talk to Miro about.

Tobias shook his head. “It doesn’t matter Thomas, we need to get back. The battle has only just begun.”

“It does matter! There is no way we can win as it is now, not even with your and Miroslav’s magic. There are too many. And if there is some monster out there to contend with—” Thomas trailed off, eyes wide and emotions high. He was upset for many reasons but the most important one was that he was afraid for his people. Yes, he had gotten a majority of them out of the capital and headed south, but if they couldn’t defend the country, what little did it matter? He didn’t want this battle to be the last one of his line, of his realm.

“You are not alone, Thomas. You have friends and you have support.” Tobias started patiently, but Thomas shook his head.

“I know my friends and I’m grateful for them. But what I need now is military support, some aid with warriors, archers, men who can fight.”

“And what makes you think you will not have the aid of the Elvenking?”

A strong voice that Thomas had heard only once, a few years before, called out across the wood as well as the sound of horses and the clanking of armor. He spun and behind himself sitting atop a large gray horse with a tightly braided mane was the Elvenking, Jens. Behind him were what had to be, in Thomas’ estimation, nearly a thousand of the elves’ best warriors. He was amazed. He had never seen them in their full armor before, gleaming and silver in its polished refinement. He had only heard tales of the elves and their warriors. He never thought he would see them, but here they were.

“Thank you.” Thomas said softly at first, then repeated louder. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Thank you for coming to help us.”

Jens nodded once and raised his hand and a spare horse was brought to stand next to him. Like Jens, it was also a large gray with a braided mane.

“Join us and ride back to your castle, Thomas, son of Gerhard where we will fight for your kingdom.” Jens said and offered the reigns to Thomas for him to take. Thomas looked at Tobias who nodded once.

“Go with them. I’ll go back to the battle.” Tobias replied and waited until Thomas was walking towards the elves and the horse before he summoned the magic needed to transport him back towards Ansieál.

\---

Benedikt couldn’t believe his eyes when Thomas just vanished. For a moment he wasn’t sure if the army had swallowed him up and had stolen him from view, but when he didn’t see anything or any colors that Thomas had been wearing down below under the crush of orks, he had to believe the truth for what it was. Thomas had disappeared. Marco didn’t seem quite able to believe it either when Benedikt looked over at the guardsman. Then they both turned back around when they remembered they weren’t alone. Fortunately for both of them, Joachim and Miroslav were distracted by one another for the dark wizard to pay any attention to the three of them.

“You deny me once more, Miroslav. I will have my payment.”

Miro shook his head but did not distract himself from maintaining eye contact with the demon.

“Ioanihr, you were paid. It’s time to let it go.”

Joachim’s hand disappeared in a cloud of black smoke that wound forward from the appendage like a black coil of rope. He stretched towards Miroslav, who shot forward a ball of light from the palm of his hand, the ball broke up the coil until it faded.

“I will not!” Rage was in every facet of the monster’s expression. “I was betrayed and I will have my revenge on you. You will be cursed as I have been.”

“The only curse is of your making. You were not betrayed, except perhaps by your own mind and your own power.” Miroslav’s voice was strong, commanding but the black clouds were growing ever-darker.

Marco nudged Lukasz and Benedikt and then nodded towards the stairs. Benedikt was reluctant but he agreed; he didn’t really want to get himself thrown over a wall either. They started to inch their way towards the stairs and left the two wizards to duel it out. As they left, Benedikt wondered what great payment Miroslav had owed this creature.

Marco and Lukasz quickly made their way down the stairs and kept to the wall, trying to stay out of sight from any attention from the monster above them. They disappeared into the castle and started to climb towards the second level.

“What is that _thing_ talking about?” Marco asked as they climbed the stairs quickly.

“How old is Miro? I thought he wasn’t that old.” Lukasz replied but Benedikt shook his head as they reached the second level. Benedikt went to one of the arrow-slits of a window and looked out. The goblins were attempting to scale the walls. _Damn._

Benedikt shook his head and turned back to Marco. He pointed to the window and the guardsman looked out. Benedikt rubbed the back of his neck and he tried to think of a way to be useful. He wasn’t going to just sit out and do nothing. If Mats could be in the front lines, then he could do something helpful.

“Give me a bow and some arrows or something.” Benedikt asked Marco for, causing the other man to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do with those? Climb up to the top of the Tower and exhaust them before you get started and make a dent? Climb up there and risk an archer taking you out as well?” Marco asked with a raised eyebrow.

Benedikt shrugged. “I need to do something.”

“And something you can do, just don’t be a fool about it.” Marco replied. “Let’s go to the armory. With the way those goblins and orks are, it won’t be long before we need to defend the keep.”

Benedikt nodded and agreed that that was probably the better choice. He and Lukasz followed Marco towards the heavily stocked armory and down the halls at a quick pace. Outside, the sound of the goblins chatter grew louder.

\---

“I cannot be stopped, Miroslav.” Ioanihr replied, circling Miroslav, who kept the pace with him. “You know that.” Miroslav did not react, nor did he respond which caused the demon to laugh in his dark way. “All things of darkness will come over this land and resume the control I once had here. You cannot stop me for I cannot die.”

“No, you can’t.” Miroslav agreed. “You sold your soul for that _privilege_ long ago.”

Ioanihr nodded once, a bowing of the head in acknowledgement of Miroslav’s words.

“Tell me, Ioanihr, why possess Joachim of all people?” Miroslav knew that the demon could not exist in his full power form without possessing someone. He could not maintain a physical shape and wield the power he did. He needed the human sacrifice to be what he was. But why Joachim?

“He invited me in.” Ioanihr replied simply. “In the darkness of his imprisonment he struck a deal with me and invited me. I saw the potential in him…” Ioanihr’s voice purred then, as if he was deliciously delighted with the turn of events. His voice had grown silky and suggestive. Seductive. Dangerous. “And now here I am. Tell me, have you missed me, Miro?”

Ioanihr moved closer then, the black cloud hiding his legs from view as the demon stood close to Miroslav and lingered in front of the face of the wizard. His voice, not the voice of Joachim but that of his old self, before he had turned into this monster, softened and spoke to Miroslav right by his ear in suggestive whispers that Miroslav had not heard in a long, long time.

“Have you missed what we used to be in those days?”

Miroslav knew it must have been an illusion, there was no way it was possible. Joachim himself didn’t even have light-colored eyes when he had been human. Nevertheless, when Ioanihr took a small step back and met Miroslav’s eyes, the blackness was gone. It had been replaced by a field of blue eyes, soft in their expression, and a pair of eyes that Miroslav had not seen in nearly two and a half thousand years.

It would have been much easier to buy into, to believe, if it had been his entire human face. But it wasn’t. It was an illusion and he was a monster now. Not the elf that he had been once. He was still possessing another man and had an almost limitless supply of dark magic at his command. 

“If I did,” Miroslav replied in the same smooth voice that he made match Ioanihr’s, “then I would be a fool for remembering what you used to be, instead of what you have become.”

The blue eclipsed then, drowned in the inky black color of the demon and Miroslav wanted to shake his head in disappointment. The demon shifted back on his cloud and he seemed to expand, the breadth of his shoulders and the aura of his darkness grew bigger and Miroslav could feel the power building in his system.

“It is wise of you to not remember.” Ioanihr replied and a smirk crossed his lips. “You would have died a foolish man instead of the wizard that you were.”

Miroslav summoned his own strength, though he was more subtle about it. “The wizard that I _am_ , if you please.”

Ioanihr’s smirk remained in place. “For now, but not for much longer.”

Then, in the speech of demons and other nefarious creatures, Ioanihr called out to his armies with words that carried across the chaos of the battlefield. Miroslav knew enough of the dark speech to recognize the words ‘ _diis-rad_ ’ come from the monster’s lips. _Attack now._

The cackle of the goblins grew louder and the drum-beats of the orks sounded much more frequently then they had as the monsters roared louder. In front of him, Miroslav watched as Ioanihr began to laugh on his own. Miroslav shook his head then, and readied himself and his magic.

“You’re a fool if you think Antiá will fall to you.”

“I will be repaid by you, _gothish_.” Ioanihr’s eyes blazed into Miro’s own. For the first time since the battle began, Miroslav smiled a little, feeling a little bit of Thomas’ rebellious streak stir inside of him. Perhaps there was something for the impertinence of youth after all.

“Master enemy? You are kind to call me that, _meldir_.” Miroslav ignored the fact that a swarm of goblins were climbing onto the curtain wall with them now. There were enough soldiers to handle them, he thought.

Ioanihr replied. “Kind, I am not.”

Still feeling impetuous, Miroslav replied. “Then perhaps we should dispense with the talking?”

Ioanihr smirked again, dangerously. “Indeed.”

Miroslav readied himself for a battle of magic and spells that he knew would be hard to beat during the best of times, never mind with a company of goblins now to contend with. From everywhere surrounding the castle, the cackle of goblins mixed with the pounding of ork drums as they began to barrage the gate with heavy iron weights to try and bring the gate down.

Miroslav readied himself just as Ioanihr lashed out with his first curse, a spell to literally knock everything to the ground.


	17. Truth Hides in Shadows and Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update! :D For this chapter I recommend [this track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGdksgNAUfs) because it fits the chapter, especially towards the end and why not? Also, sadly, we are nearing the end of this story. I know it's been a long journey, but it's almost over. I hope you like the ending, and yes, my fort is ready to hide me for the ending that's coming. ;-) I'm debating on if there will in fact be a third part, so we'll see about that.
> 
> For now, here is this chapter and apologies for the super long delay. I hope you continue to like the story and that this chapter doesn't disappoint. Turns out its really hard to write battle scenes! Hope you like it guys ♥

From the depths of the castle, the drumbeats sounded hallow, empty and at a great distance from the truth of their near proximity. In the depths of the armory, Marco and the others readied themselves with armor and sharp swords. After a moment or two, Mario joined them and Marco raised his eyebrows when he saw the arrival of the other hunter.

“Find out anything interesting up there?” Marco asked, tossing him a sword.

“Only that Miroslav is nuts. Who would find a demon like that—”

“Stop that talk, now isn’t the time.” Robert interrupted as he also entered the armory with a few of his guard from Carda in tow. They wore their armor with the crest of his house emblazoned into the metal.

Marco looked between the men in the room and he heard the drums grow silent. All of them looked to the roof of the armory when they heard the spine-tingling cackle of goblin laughter. Mario swallowed hard and he gave Benedikt a wink. Marco cleared his throat and caught the attention of everyone in the room.

“Gentlemen, I pray to the Gods and the Valkyrie that we make it through this. Keep yourselves alert, your movements steady, and together we can defend our homes. Have faith that luck is on our side.” Marco replied, looking to each man in the armory. “Arm yourselves, and let us be ready.”

Robert nodded once and surrendered his men to the control of Marco for the battle and he came to stand next to Lukasz who was busy placing a dagger in his armor, concealed in the metal should he be forced to use it if he was otherwise disarmed. Robert leaned in to pick up his own dagger of choice, hand brushing over the other man’s. Lukasz looked up, slightly confused and Robert gave him a small smile.

“When this is all over,” he said softly, “remind me to ask you to dinner.”

Lukasz shared a hesitant smile, his eyes glancing over to Marco who was busy sharpening his sword against a leather strap. As he glanced over, he missed Robert’s look of disappointment that disappeared once Lukasz returned his eyes to Robert’s face. He gave a slight nod of his head indicating his acceptance and a sheepish smile that belied his shyness. Robert smiled again, though it wasn’t as happy as it had been before, and he took a few steps back to ready himself for the oncoming attack.

It was only a few moments after that one that the sound of thunder sounded from above on top of the towers and the ground began to shake under their feet.

\---

From a distance it sounded as though a great storm, much like a hurricane, was taking place but Thomas couldn’t believe that. No hurricane had ever come this far north, and the dark clouds that were blocking out the sun were no natural ones either. As he and Jens’ army stood on the edge of the forest, they looked ahead and saw only the blackness of the artificial night and the rumble came from the army. Thomas swallowed hard and glanced at the Elevenking.

“That is no mere army.” The king said.

“They cause a great noise.” Thomas agreed but Jens shook his head.

“It isn’t so much the army causing that. It’s the magic of Ioanihr clashing with Miroslav’s.” Jens pointed to the tower that had been the source of Thomas’ misery for five years and Thomas swallowed hard.

It was a strain to the eyes, but two shapes could be made out on top of the Scarlet Tower; one was the color of black ink and the other would occasionally disrupt it with bursts of white light.

“It sounds like a thunderstorm.” Thomas mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else. Still, Jens heard him.

“Theirs is a battle that was not made for us.” Jens said, gaining Thomas’ attention once again. “Let us do battle with creatures that we know we can defeat. Miroslav has told you of his plan?”

Thomas shook his head. “I only know part of it.”

Jens was quiet for a few moments more before he nodded once. “Then let us trust in the Wizard and hope that will be enough. Are you ready to defend our realm, Thomas?”

Thomas drew his sword and tightened the grip around the handle of it. It felt heavier now than it had ever done before, even though he knew that there was no way it could actually be any heavier. He swallowed his nerves, his anxieties and nodded once. Jens gave the order for his elves to march forwards into battle. Thomas nudged his horse along to join them and for a brief moment before they actually stepped out from behind the treeline and could be seen, he closed his eyes.

He heard the sound of thunder loudly in his ears and felt the stillness of the air. He heard the drums of the armies and the cackles of the goblins. He heard the horses moving beside him and the march of the elven soldiers. He heard his heartbeat in his ears and his breathing and he focused on those two things, drowning out the rest.

In his mind, he spoke himself and hopefully Miroslav as well.

_I trust you. I love you more than anything in the world and I trust you. You came when I needed you, impossible as it was and we have all the years in the world ahead of us. Do not let us end on this day. Don’t let our kingdom fall._

He opened his eyes once they cleared the forest and a great roar sounded as the orks saw them arrive. He readied his sword and prepared himself for battle as a cluster of foul beasts turned their sights on the elven army.

\---

Ioanihr stopped mid-spell when he heard the shrieks of the orks and he glanced down from the tower. Miroslav took the moment of respite to regroup mentally. He was being worn down ever-so-slowly by the demon and the creature knew it Ioanihr turned sharply onto Miroslav and if it was possible for a demon to look even more furious, then he did so.

“You involve the elves in this? You cheat me again!”

“They are your own people, or were once. Why should they not be involved? Besides, if you were to succeed here, it would only be a matter of time before you went after Indéne, would it not?” Miroslav asked patiently, hoping the distraction of the arrival of the elves would be enough for Ioanihr to make the mistake Miroslav would need him to make to be defeated.

“That would be none of your concern. To Hölle I would’ve sent you for many years before they would have ever worried about me.”

Ioanihr shook his head and Miroslav felt the strength he was summoning shake the top of the tower. He prepared himself for the blast of dark magic and it came with a force so strong that a particularly loud boom sounded as it collided with ferocious intensity with Miroslav’s protective shield.

The sound of it rumbled over the top of the tower, carrying on the wind and down to the ground below. Ioanihr stood in front of Miroslav and glared as the elves began to clash with the ork army. Miroslav decided then that he could not continue being reactive towards Ioanihr’s attacks. He would have to go on the offensive; he would use logic and words, he decided as he prepared himself for the upset he would cause.

“You used to be great, once.” Ioanihr’s attention returned to him from where it had been lingering on the elves.

“I am still great.”

“No.” Miroslav shook his head, pity in his expression. “And the trouble with it all is that you cannot see just how far you have fallen. You are no longer the elf you used to be, and it saddens me.”

Ioanihr lashed out with a series of quick spells that Miroslav was waiting for. He deflected them, sending them to the roof of the Scarlet Tower’s watch post where they deflected upwards into the sky, taking a few of the terracotta shingles with the bursts of energy.

“Show me your true form as you used to be, if you have the power. Let me fight my old friend the way you used to be.” Miroslav waited to see if he would take the bait. “Let me see you again, if I am truly to be destroyed.”

Ioanihr shook his head. “No, I will not.”

“Are you afraid of showing yourself to me? Or would you be too weak then to attack me?” Miroslav gambled of revealing his plan to the demon.

“Of course I would still have the strength then. But why should I when I can hurt you in this form?”

Miroslav played the final card he had in this particular deck of strategy. “If you will have it be your way, Ioanihr. Or should I call you Mark, as you were once known?”

Miroslav then murmured, lips barely moving with any sound coming forth, a spell that bound the demon to the name he had had before he had given his soul to the darkness and Ioanihr cried out as if in great pain when he found himself bound to the name. He glared with demon-black eyes at Miroslav, who began to pace around him, creating an enchantment that would physically bind him to the stones and restrict his movement. This enchantment would not hold forever, but it would be enough to get inside the demon’s mind and perhaps reach the scraps of elf that remained behind. It was a long shot, but Miroslav was going to try.

He stopped in front of the creature in Joachim’s form and he met the other’s eyes.

“Show yourself to me, Mark. Just once more, for my sake.” Miroslav’s tone softened and that mixed with his earlier enchantment.

The spirit of Ioanihr seemed to roll back into the body of Joachim, the way the black eyes rolled back into the whites of the other man before they changed completely, changing back to the blue that Miroslav recognized. The human ears of Joachim changed to the more pointed ones of the elvenkind and the human’s height grew taller in the elf-form. It only took a moment, but Joachim faded and the elf’s form became fully recognizable to Miroslav at last.

For the first time in two and a half thousand years, he was finally able to recognize his friend. Even if it wouldn’t last, it was still enough.

“You still changed your eyes for me.” Miroslav whispered and saw the blueness of his eyes that would have otherwise been brown or hazel, changing with his mood but never around Miroslav. They were always blue in the Wizard’s company.

Mark, nor the demon inside him, spoke and instead both were watching the Wizard to see what he would do next. For the first time since the demon arrived at the castle, the darkness of the cloud seemed to lessen and a little sunlight appeared to be flickering through, at least on top of the Tower. It was working, but how long could he keep it up for? Miroslav pushed aside his doubt and he focused on what he was trying to accomplish.

The Wizard assumed his expression was one of sadness, remembering the days of their friendship before the world had changed and Mark had given himself over to the blackest of all dark magic and rendered himself no longer the elf he had once been. So much had changed, but for just a few seconds, Miroslav could remember the many summer days spent in Indéne or on the coast or exploring the forest in one another’s company. He had been a young Wizard, having just completed his own apprenticeship, and Mark was the fourth son of the Elvenking and therefore was less important than his older brothers. They had made a friendship that had lasted almost a century before things had changed and the Troubles had begun.

“Your sentimentality is clouding your judgment, Wizard.” Ioanihr’s voice came from Mark’s lips and it was the truest crime Miro had heard in a while. Such a rough voice, should never come from that body. “You should finish this now, if you are going to.”

Miroslav shook his head, the sadness still very much present on his own features.

“Mark, I wish you would renounce this and come back to us the way you once were.”

“It’s too late for that, even if I had such a desire.”

“Haven’t you had enough of power for one lifetime? For a hundred lifetimes?” Miroslav asked. “Aren’t you tired?”

The Mark he knew would have looked exhausted by now and nodded, looking sheepish for having been playing with things he shouldn’t have been. He would have surrendered, falling to his knees and begging for the forgiveness he was being offered now. He would have accepted a pardon graciously, or his death if that had been the turn of the card for him. He would not have continued this façade of a powerful entity that yearned for ultimate control.

“Give me my repayment and I will be gone.”

Miroslav shook his head, the urge to protect Thomas pushed aside any bit of remaining sentiment for his former friend. “I will not give you the heart of a King. You were repaid for when it counted.”

The Wizard could recall easily enough of what he spoke, but he was truthful. Mark and Ioanihr had been repaid for the service they had provided Antiá in the midst of the Iron Age. The magic they had wielded had driven the darkness and the ork armies out of the land. They had only asked for one thing, the Heart of the King as their payment. Only it was not as Ioanihr had wished it; instead of the physical beating organ, he had been given the love of the King instead.

“You knew what I asked for and that was not what I received.”

“Love is worth more than any other power. It transcends all of time, history, even the very earth.”

“Your romanticism and all of the desires it brings is blinding. It creates fixations and ties that are needless and painful, suffocating and sharp. Who is the real monster for encouraging such a fixation, you who promotes it, or I who abhors it?”

“You believed in love, once.” Miroslav reminded him quietly, speaking to Mark then and he caught the eye of the other man.

“And look what it got me. Nothing. You were my One, Miroslav. And you repaid me with your departure.” Mark ground out the words through gritted teeth and Miroslav shook his head.

“You cannot blame the actions that proceeded that autumn as my fault. They were your choices and yours alone. You have done this and more and it is not my doing.”

“Enough talk. Do your worst, if you can. You don’t have it in you to find a way to kill me, so what now, Miroslav? Banish me from this realm? I will find a way back, you know I will.”

Miroslav did know. And he was more than a little aware that Mark, Ioanihr, would always return here, to this moment, to a place where the demon could hurt Miroslav the most and with little to no repercussions. Only now, instead of fighting only for himself, Miroslav was now having to think of Thomas. He would never forgive himself, ever, if any kind of suffering that Ioanihr caused to Thomas and Miroslav had this moment to end it all now. It was the preservation of it all, is what it was. He didn’t have any other choice.

“I wish things were different, Mark. Ioanihr, may you rot in Hölle, where you belong.”

Miroslav moved forward then with a sacred dagger that was mixed in a special potion in hand and he plunged it into the figure of Mark’s chest and straight into his heart. Miroslav murmured over and over the spell that would expel Ioanihr back to the depths where he belonged while he kept eye contact with the blue eyes he had known so well once, right until they faded black and then to the lifeless whites of Joachim’s. Mark’s form retreated back into the real body that he had been inhabiting, Joachim, who slumped forward as his body began to die.

Miroslav held Joachim as he slowly brought him down and the other man stirred, his voice returning to what it had been before. He looked muddled, disoriented and much the way he had been when he had been Jürgen’s advisor and friend, before the witch Klaudia had corrupted him for her own evil purposes.

“M-Miro?” Joachim asked, and Miroslav nodded once, leaning over him as the other man was laid out on the stones of the roof of the tower. The Wizard took his hand in his own and for a moment let himself remember Joachim the way he used to be, instead of what he became. It was easier that way. Joachim had been good once, he reminded himself and clung to that instead of the memories of what had happened afterwards.

“I’m here, Jogi.” Miroslav replied quietly, stroking his hand lightly and giving him the kindness of a peaceful death, considering the circumstances. “I’m here.”

“What…what happened? I’m so cold.” He looked confused and Miroslav felt a pang. He wondered just how much of his memory had been erased when Ioanihr had left him.

“It’s a long story, Jogi. I’ll tell you about it sometime. For now, get some rest. I’ll be right here to keep a watch on you.” Miroslav promised, despite the sadness he felt for the impending death of another friend.

“Tell, t-tell Jürgen I’m sorry.” Joachim whispered before his body went still. Miroslav swallowed hard and nodded. Sorry for killing him? Sorry for betraying him? Sorry that he wasn’t able to be with him in what was the remnants of his addled mind?

Miroslav wasn’t sure. He lifted his hand and closed Joachim’s eyes for the final time and rested his hand over his chest. No more would the former advisor of Antiá give anyone any trouble or grief. No more would Joachim see another sunrise. Miroslav murmured a blessing and hopes for his afterlife before he stood up and went to look over the tower.

Now there was a greater problem to worry about, if only in sheer numbers alone. Even without a leader, the ork and goblin army were still in the thousands and Ansieál could be overrun on numbers alone. Miro’s plan was still in affect, and the elves were doing their best and were holding their own. But the war was not won yet, and Miroslav sighed as he tried to regain his strength.

Turning away from the war and starting back towards the stairs, Miroslav prepared to send a mental summons to those who would help win the battle for the humans and protect Thomas’ kingdom. The darkness in the clouds began to break up as the sun began to shine through and the shrieks of the goblins came loudly as the sun began to burn their skin.


	18. The Battle of the Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning: Violence, blood-references, and character death** in this chapter. And if you read this, I really hope you listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4VB7gtR65Q) especially towards the end because it fits so wonderfully and sadly, that…well, yes. It's sad. :( This isn't a happy chapter at all.

The army of the orks was thick and hard to get through, impossible to make it to the castle as quickly as Thomas would have liked. He wasn’t sure what the rest of the plan was, only that it had to work. His arm grew heavy and numb as he delivered blow after accurate blow to the mongrels who dared get into his way as he struggled towards the castle gates. The elves beside him did not fully rely on their swordsmanship to defeat their enemy. They had the armory of a series of enchantments and spells to aid in their attack. However, even for the army of elvenkind, it was still slow-moving as the density of their enemy was thick and they were in fewer number.

When the cloud overhead shimmered with light at last, breaking up the darkness of the false night, Thomas felt renewed sense of hope. Perhaps Miroslav was winning, perhaps they could do it. Perhaps they would win and Antiá would be saved once more. He took this strength and pushed forward, striking out at any part of the nearest ork he could find.

And so he labored next to the elves as they slowly, slowly made their way towards the gates. Every so often they would be pushed back as another offensive of giant orks would come after them, but somehow they managed to keep their heads above the tide of organizing and reorganizing orks and goblins until they made their way to the wall of the castle. They were not at the gate yet, but they could maneuver there. Thomas cried out in happiness and congratulations to his fellow soldiers, but that’s when he felt the sharpness press into the metal of his armor and he felt the blade enter his body.

He cried out in pain but it was lost to the sound of a thousand creatures hissing and the blinding of his senses as the sun filtered through at last in full glory and the falsehood of the night was over. Thomas slumped against the stones of the castle wall and he pressed his hand to his abdomen; it came away stained in crimson. He pressed his blood-soaked hand against the enormous base of the newly rebuilt tower, christening it the Scarlet Tower once more and he took a few moments to catch his breath while Per defended the oncoming orks that threatened him as he tried to regain his strength to carry on.

\---

The goblins had come over the wall and were swelling like a giant black wave over into the interior of the courtyard. They had agility that a human does not have and it was with little effort on their part they dispatched the nearest guards with little to no resistance. When the sun shimmered and became threatening, they hissed out, but it returned to darkness and they continued their assault, attacking with fluid movement for a creature so used to darkness.

They entered the castle and there they met their first real test of endurance. Waiting for them on the other side of the doors was Robert and his guard along with Marco and Lukasz. Ready and prepared, the group attacked the goblins as the sun finally graced the courtyard with its presence. Those goblins that had once been outside rushed forward into the interior of the castle or anywhere with a shadow to avoid the burning sun on their skin.

As a result of their sudden surge of numbers, the defenders of the castle were suddenly at a loss of what to do except defend with all of their lives because that was what was at stake. So they fought, Mario and Benedikt returned from the shadows with bow and arrow and from the balcony above the keep they fired at the attackers until they ran out of arrows and then proceeded to use their hand weapons in defense.

Marco continued to keep an eye on his soldiers, promising himself mentally to return and say the proper rites when he noticed another fallen man. He came back to back with Lukasz as they were encircled in a cluster of goblins. Now wasn’t the time for their previous arguments or disagreements, now it was about survival.

“Marco?” Lukasz asked as the Master of the Guard attacked wildly and tried to keep himself above any offensive that would harm or maim him.

“What?” He asked as Lukasz blocked another parry.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have fought the way we did.”

“Now really isn’t the best time for this, but it’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

Lukasz stayed quiet for a moment and Marco panicked when he didn’t feel any movement from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lukasz struggling with a large brute of a goblin until he finally pushed the monster away and he stabbed it through the heart. Marco turned back to face his own hobgoblin when he felt the sting of a sword slice at his neck. He cried out and fell to his knees, hand clutching at the partial wound on his neck.

Marco’s eyes stared above him as the hobgoblin was about to deliver the final blow that would have finished him off forever, when Lukasz intervened and struck twice. The first blow removed part of the arm of the goblin, and the second took his neck and removed the creatures head from its shoulders. Marco felt the blood moving over his hand and he turned to thank Lukasz when the other man was stabbed at the odd angle of an upward thrust into his abdomen and the goblin that did so laughed in delight as it claimed another victim.

Marco shook his head, his hand growing slippery with his own blood as he shifted over to protect Lukasz. He cried out as the great warrior of a man slumped onto his knees, then onto his hip and he reached out blindly for Marco, who also reached for him.

The sound of a great horn carried through the bowels of the castle. The goblins screeched in fear and Marco lost sight of the events that were now taking place around him—the goblins were making a retreat into further of the interior of the castle—and he focused on Lukasz in front of him. He removed his bloodied hand from his neck, uncaring that the wound was flowing freely, and he held Lukasz’ hand tightly in his own.

Manuel arrived from the hall of the Kings and with him came the roused army of the dwarven lords from all five provinces of Angûr. Miroslav’s magic had roused them from Velolduhr and Tobias’ skill in teleportation had sealed the connection between the tombs of Angûr and the remnants of Miroslav’s empty one in Ansieál. The dwarves, heavily laden in swords and finely crafted armor, rushed from the castle’s interior and sought out the goblins. Having had centuries upon centuries of practice of hunting down goblins, the dwarves made quick work of finding and eliminating them.

The half-elf assisted with what he could, making his way over to the group of his friends that he recognized in the middle of a goblin offensive and remains of their fallen brethren. He saw Marco bleeding excessively from the neck before he saw Lukasz on the ground in front of him and he swore, moving over to crouch down in front of them while the branch of Gerd’s dwarven army rushed past them and chased the goblins further down the corridor.

“Shit, Marco, come here.” Manuel replied, tearing a scrap of fabric from his tunic. Marco shook his head, and waved him off.

“No, Lukasz first.”

Manuel took Marco by the back of the hair in a tight grip and stared into his eyes. “Let me see to you first or you’ll bleed out before I can help him and then what good will that fucking be?”

The shock of being tightly gripped and the seriousness of Manuel’s words had Marco nodding slowly. Manuel released his head after a moment and bound the ripped fabric around his neck and covered the wound. It wouldn’t last forever, but he didn’t have enough time to complete the spell that would heal him. Instead he issued orders to keep as much pressure on the wound as long as he could while he took care of Lukasz. Marco nodded slowly and Manuel went to check over his friend, who was growing ever paler as the minutes ticked by.

\---

With the obvious disappearance of the cloud in the sky and the arrival of the elves and their warriors, the orks began to retreat. Some went to the south and the west, others and a larger portion of their numbers, started for the east. It was the fastest way to the Otherlands and out of the realm of Antiá and into the safety of their own worlds. From there, they could disperse and return to their native lands.

A great loud horn from outside the castle sounded and the drumbeats signaled the start of a retreat. They were to surrender and withdraw from the battlefield, but that would not do for Thomas’ and his kingdom. The threat had been there, the lesson had not been learned, and Miroslav knew that.

For that very reason, Sebastian, Mats, and the others that Miroslav had assembled and then sent away, were awaiting the retreating orks on the Great River in their ships with their canons poised and waiting. With a grin of expectancy and mischief, Mats gave the order to open fire as the first of a large number of orks began to arrive on the river bank.

\---

Benedikt wasn’t sure what he was more surprised to see first, Ilkay or the fact that a bunch of armed dwarves were running down the hallway chasing goblins like they were parents chasing after children in a game of hide and seek. The dwarven leader of Ibolodûr and the human man stared at one another for a long while. Even with Miroslav’s explanation of the fact he had been in a trance, Benedikt still wasn’t sure if the events he had lived through were real or just his imagination. He supposed part of that was cleared up by the fact that Ilkay seemingly recognized him and they exchanged a brief nod of acknowledgement.

He would really have to speak to Miroslav about that whole trance-like state later.

The blond turned away from the dwarf and made his way over to the other side of the keep where Mario was finishing off a goblin. He stood next to the other man and exchanged a look of gratitude that their friendship had survived another battle and Benedikt relaxed a little as the keep was emptying of the goblins and more and more dwarves were acting less urgent, as if the threat was mostly dispatched with.

Benedikt went to look over the rail and he saw Lukasz on the ground, being tended to by Manuel. He wasn’t sure where the man had gone off to but he was relieved when he saw him now. Mario was the same way, and even said as much, as he leaned tiredly against the rail. They both watched Marco as he stared at Lukasz with concern on his face.

It was then that noticed a smaller man, no it was a dwarf, with blond hair come up to the Master of the Guard and offered him fresh linen for his neck.

Benedikt had never seen anyone fall in love before. He wondered now if he had looked like that when he and Mats had first met. Marco’s face went from agonized concern for his friend and former lover to awed, entranced and curious about the dwarf standing in front of him. With his back to him, Benedikt couldn’t see what the expression was on the dwarf’s face but he hoped for Marco’s sake that it was some level of reciprocation. With a slight smile, he turned to Mario but he didn’t have to point the gesture out. Mario had already seen it and they both shared a chuckle as they started down from the upwards of the keep to congratulate Marco on finding his One.

\---

Miroslav checked on the progress of the battle from one of the windows of the Tower as he climbed down. Things were going well enough to plan. He had heard the call of the dwarves as they had arrived and he smiled a little to himself. There was no one better to fight goblins than the ones that had almost eradicated them in the first place. He finished his way down the stairs and crossed the landing when he felt a shift in energies that he had made sure he was aligned to.

He felt the sharp tug of one such energy before it snapped and then disappeared from his senses altogether. He swallowed hard when he realized whose it was and he took a few moments to ready himself before he would address the matter. Miroslav pushed ahead and then went to check on young Lukasz who was being seen to by Manuel. He rested his hand on the half-man’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“Will he be all right?” Miroslav asked kindly and Manuel nodded. Miroslav agreed and then turned to go find Robert in the chaos that was the Great Hall. He gave his regards to Mario and then to Benedikt before he continued looking for Robert. Then he felt another sense of energy change and he completely shifted directions. Per needed him, but more importantly, Thomas needed him.

Having trained in the art for long enough to know more about it than Tobias would, Miroslav disappeared from view in the Great Hall and arrived at the base of the Scarlet Tower. Per looked exhausted but there were no more goblins or orks attacking him on that side of the castle and he was busy leaning over Thomas who was slumped against the wall.

Miroslav moved over to his King, his lover, and he knelt at the ground, hand covering the wound that he saw seeping through the armor. Thomas looked at him in surprise before happiness crossed his face.

“You came back.” He spoke softly, faintly and Miroslav nodded. He silently willed the injuries to heal under his hand. Per had already attempted the magical spells, it seemed, but more were needed.

“I promised I would.” Miroslav spoke softly and Thomas nodded a little before his head lolled back to rest against the stone of the tower.

“Am I going to die, Miroslav?” Thomas asked and Per looked over at that before he quickly looked away and took a few steps further from the two of them for privacy.

Miroslav pressed his hand against Thomas’ belly and leaned over to kiss the young king on the lips. Thomas responded but it lacked the enthusiasm that Miroslav knew came with the full depth of his emotions. Miroslav stayed close and kissed Thomas’ cheek lightly.

“No, you’re not going to die. You’re not allowed to and I will see to it that you don’t. I didn’t come back from Velolduhr for you to die on me.” Miroslav spoke quietly and then resumed his healing treatment of Thomas.

He meant what he said; Thomas wasn’t going to die. It would take some time and some actual medicine over this magic, but he wasn’t going to die. Miroslav felt the relief of knowing that over the pain of the loss that he knew would come later. Some of his friends were dead in the chaos of the battle, some of all of their friends, and he knew that the funerals and mourning would only just begin as the sun would set.

It was only a matter of time before the true grasp of loss would set in. But at least Ansieál and Antiá were safe. They had won the battle and that was enough for now.

\---

Several hours after the heart of the fighting had ended and the monsters had sounded their retreat, Benedikt found himself walking along the bank of the Great River and was looking for the _Hades_. He kept his wits about him, alert for any stragglers that may have decided the darkness was a good place to round another offensive, but he kept his eyes peeled in the sunset for the mast of the ship and the man he loved the most.

Several hospitals and treatment centers had been set up in the castle and on the outskirts of the city. The edge of the Plains were being used for burying the dead and Benedikt had wanted to avoid such a place for as long as he could. The smell of death clung to everything there and he didn’t want to be so near to it until he had seen Mats and could smell the scent of him once more.

As the sun continued to set in the West, the ships finally started to come back from the south where they had pursued the orks and goblins in their attempted escape. Relief flooded him when he saw the _Hades_ and he moved closer to the dock to wait for Mats’ arrival. He was waiting there as the ship docked and the ropes were thrown down to tie off the boat. And he was still waiting there when the gangplank was lowered. However, he stopped waiting and rushed up the plank to the deck above and looked for Mats but he didn’t see him at first.

Who he did see was Sebastian, leaning heavily on the wheel and looked tired. Benedikt made a beeline for him, wandering over debris and men who were slumped against the deck of the ship. With apprehension, Benedikt saw that there were a few bodies as well. But it wasn’t until Benedikt stopped in front of the head of Thomas’ security and looked him square in the eye that that apprehension turned to something else.

“Where is he? Where’s Mats?”

The look of exhaustion on Sebastian’s face did not disappear; in fact, it only seemed to grow more extensive and a look crossed his face that mixed with the exhaustion in a way that Benedikt’s stomach began to lurch. He shook his head and rested his hands on his hips and stared at Sebastian, waiting for an answer.

When none came, he asked again.

“Well? Where is he?”

The tone that came from the other man when he finally did speak was tainted with it and Benedikt refused to believe what he heard was sympathy.

“Benedikt, Benni.” Sebastian sighed and shifted from the wheel, letting his hands fall to his sides as he looked with the same emotion that infected his voice. “He’s gone, Benedikt.”

He wouldn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to do so. “Very cute. Where is he? In his quarters?”

Benedikt brushed past Sebastian and started for the very cabin that he and the pirate shared. He could handle an injury. Hell, he could handle the loss of a limb. He loved Mats for who he was, not just how handsome he could be. He could not, would not, and in no way ever be able to accept the fact that his lover was dead. There was just no way that could be possible. He would have known; he would have felt it. They had a connection, didn’t they? He would have surely been able to sense something as awful and tragic as that!

He pushed the door to Mats’ quarters open and he sagged a little when he saw the dark haired pirate lying out on the bunk. He shook his head and moved into the room.

“Very funny, Matsi. Give me a heart attack why don’t you?” Benedikt laughed but it was more of an expulsion of nervous energy than actual amusement. He came to stop next to the bed and when the other man didn’t move to acknowledge him or speak to supply a retort, not even to breathe, Benedikt shook his head and felt the sharp tightening in his chest and his throat. “Matsi? Mats?”

He heard someone, Sebastian, stop in the doorway but he didn’t look over. Instead Benedikt reached out and touched Mats’ shoulder first, but it didn’t move underneath his touch. His skin didn’t twitch, nor did Mats turn his head to look at him the way he would have otherwise done. Benedikt’s hand by instinct went to the other man’s face and he touched the stubbled jaw but still, Mats wouldn’t move. The tears formed in Benedikt’s eyes as the fear clouded his voice.

“ _Mats_?”

His head lolled then, to the side and his eyes opened. But relief did not come to Benedikt’s mind, only the torture of grief. Mats looked towards the floor, in an unseeing way, and Benedikt knew then that it was all over. He really was dead.

The blond sank to the floor, half-pulling Mats’ body along with him as he began to cry with the guardsman watching from the doorway.


	19. Into the Infinite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks around at the empitness* Well. I guess that's all folks. This is the final chapter, with the epilogue to follow. There may or may not be a third part. If there is, it'll definitely be in December after NaNo is done with. Regardless, this story is epic and I love all of you who read it and commented on it or even just read it. Thank you so much for giving it your time and attention.
> 
> One last song recommendation (of course there is). This one I'd like to call 'Mats Song', but it really fits everyone, especially poor Benni. T.T Regardless, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3lWwMHFhnA) is the song. I hope you enjoy it, and the chapter as well.
> 
> Thank you again, so much. *hugs to everyone*

He wasn’t adrift in a sea of disorder and he didn’t feel as though he may as well have been. He didn’t feel anything. Nothing at all.

He sat on a bench in the Great Hall as the chaos of the day surrounded him, but still he did not move. He was in no one’s way here; they were giving him very much a wide-berth. Finally, all of them left for the night. Some went to dinner, some went to bed, others went to check on their own comrades to see if they were still alive. He did not leave. He remained as he was, in the dimming light of the Great Hall that echoed with silence.

“Benedikt?” It was a call to him that sounded as if it were coming from miles and miles away. He couldn’t be sure he heard it calling to him directly.

_Mats, lying there unseeing forever more._

“Benedikt? Benni?” Still too far away to be tangible, but it was getting closer. Benedikt’s mind felt like it began to spiral upwards out of the depths of his despondency, but still he would not break the surface of his emotions.

_Refusing to let him go, having to be pried away by Kehl and later by Bastian. He still refused to let go._

“Benni!”

There was no denying it that time. Benedikt finally resurfaced and he blinked, looking at the person who was speaking to him, or rather had been shouting to revive him from his thoughts. He blinked and again and recognized the face of Mario in front of him. He swallowed. If only Mario was another brunette who he was so close and attached to.

“Benni, stay with me.” Mario said, crouching down onto the ground in front of him and maintaining eye contact. “Are you hungry?”

Benedikt shook his head and looked away from Mario’s pitying eyes. They were searching for something, a spark of the old Benedikt but how could he remain knowing what he knew now? How could he go on without Mats? How could he _eat_? He was having a hard enough time as it was just trying to remember to breathe properly.

He must have lapsed back into his thoughts, so easy it was to do after all, that he could hear Mario speaking again but it was muffled, as if it were coming through a wall of haze and at a greater distance. He lapsed back into the silence of his mind and refocused on those moments of seeing Mats lying on the bunk in the captain’s quarters of the _Poisoned Hades_.

Sebastian had tried to pull him away from Mats’ body, but Benedikt had refused. Part of him hoped, desperately needed to believe, that if he held on tight enough for long enough that Mats would come back to him and hold him. So desperate he was that Benedikt had refused to let go for hours. He still wasn’t quite sure how long, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Mats was dead. He was no longer alive and he never would be again. Benni couldn’t stand it.

Sebastian had tried for a good long while to get Benedikt to leave the cabin, but when he refused over and over again, Sebastian had left him to his grief and had gone likely on shore. Benedikt lost track of time then; the only thing he knew was the stillness and the coolness of Mats body next to his own as he clung tightly to his lover. Quietly or perhaps inaudibly altogether, Benedikt had asked Mats several questions.

Why? _Why have you gone? You promised me we would be together forever. You promised you would be safe and careful. You promised me you wouldn’t be selfish._

How? _Who did this to you? What happened? Were you acting rashly or trying to save everyone and in the process gave yourself up? Did someone catch you by surprise and you never saw it coming? Did you suffer? Was it for long?_

_Did you think of me before you died? Did you even get the chance?_

He had received no answers.

Bastian had found him then; where he had come from Benedikt still didn’t know. The other boy was kinder than Sebastian had been. He didn’t speak or give orders, he simply crouched down next to him on the floor and rested his hand on Benni’s shoulder. He gave a light squeeze and told him that it was okay to be upset. That it was okay to feel the hurt. Benedikt hadn’t said anything, only turned into Bastian’s body and clung to him the way he had gripped Mats.

Only that time, Benedikt was wrapped in a warm embrace and held tightly as he sobbed into the shoulder of his friend.

Mario was talking again. His voice lingered on the outskirts of Benedikt’s mind and it was enough to stir him into enough of a state of realization that he was no longer talking to him anymore, but to Miroslav who was lingering nearby. Benedikt blinked once more and saw that Miroslav had taken a seat on the bench next to him and Mario was leaving, throwing concerned glances over his shoulder as he did so.

Unlike his friend, Miroslav gave him time and space to think and left the way open for him to speak if he felt inclined to. Benedikt didn’t. They sat in silence for a while before Miroslav left his hand on the bench, palm upwards as if he was inviting Benni for it, a silent gift of permission that Benedikt took. He latched onto Miro’s hand with a need that he hadn’t realized he had needed until the contact of the other man’s warm skin touched his own.

“Is there any way, any way at all, that you could…?” Benedikt asked, looking pleadingly at Miroslav but the Wizard shook his head slightly and gave their joined hands a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, but there is not.”

“You came back.” Benedikt’s tone was more accusatory than he intended. Regardless, it was the truth.

“Part of my soul was bound in a spell here. Mats did not have the same enchantment.” Miroslav replied quietly, almost apologetically. “Believe me, if there was a way to do it then I would, if only to save you this pain, _meldir_.”

“Did you know he would die when you sent him?” Benedikt asked and Miroslav shook his head. Benedikt wanted someone to blame. He didn’t know whether it was ork or goblin that had taken Mats life, but he hated both species as a result of it. He wanted vengeance, he wanted repayment for his loss. He wanted Mats.

Miroslav was quiet for a long while before he spoke again, removing his hand from Benedikt’s and folding both of his in his lap.

“Benni, sometimes all there are in situations are bad choices and there is no correct one to be made. But you still have to choose. And I think that’s what Mats did. Sebastian told me what happened and I will spare most of the details, but I think Mats had two choices in the end. He could not do his duty that he had been given and not defend the River with his life and have possibly survived to return home to you at great cost to himself and his men. Or, he could have sacrificed the most precious thing he had left, knowing what it would do but how many lives it would ultimately save.”

Miroslav paused there and met Benedikt’s reluctant, tear-filled eyes.

“I don’t think there is anything less in this entire world that Mats would have died for to leave you behind than the promise of a world with absolute peace.”

Benedikt nodded, but he still could not speak. His eyes lowered from the Wizard’s kind gaze and he was teetering near the edge of the precipice back into the silence of his thoughts. Miroslav spoke again; somehow he was nearer than he had been a moment before.

“He would want you to succeed in this new world without him. He wouldn’t want you to become lost to the ghosts of the past, but that can wait for now. You have every right to be upset; I know it isn’t easy. I’ll leave you to yourself now.” He stood up and squeezed Benedikt lightly on the should before he started to go.

Something occurred to him then, and he called out. “Wait.”

Miroslav turned to face him and Benedikt swallowed hard. It was a difficult question but he had to know the answer. “Does it hurt? Dying?”

Miroslav shook his head, a slight sad smile on his face. “As painless as if you fell asleep and no more.”

“Did you… did you miss Thomas while you were gone? Or does that not even register…”

Miroslav moved back to stand in front of the other man and he gave a slight smile, but there was more than just a little sadness in it also. He resumed his seat next to Benedikt and he was quiet for a moment or two before he spoke.

“I knew, or rather, I hoped, that one day I would be coming back. It would only have been a matter of time until the magic that I had bewitched myself with would come into effect and I would return to my body. I did not know, however, how long it would be. I had hoped that it would be one day soon and I could see Thomas again and he would not have forgotten me. Luckily, that was so.”

Miroslav’s voice faded there and it was a moment’s heartbeat before he spoke again.

“I missed him every day, and yes I knew that he was very much not present where I was.”

Benedikt wasn’t sure if that helped him, or hurt him more. His arms wrapped around himself as he tightened the grip he had around his body. Tears stung his eyes and his throat burned with the urge to shed some tears. Miroslav rested his hand lightly on his back and simply sat there for hours and hours, until Benedikt had finally cried himself out once again.

\---

Mario left the Great Hall and found Manuel in the courtyard underneath one of the giant oak trees that had somehow escaped the worst of the battle. It was only missing a few limbs, but those had been gathered up earlier for fire kindling. He didn’t know what he was going to do about Benedikt, but he hoped that the Wizard could talk some sense into him.

He lowered himself to the ground next to Manuel and looked the other man over, making sure everything was unharmed on his lover’s body. Manuel raised an eyebrow but Mario shook his head at the inquisitive glance.

“I’ve been thinking.” Mario replied. “Call me selfish for thinking of it now, but I was always going to ask you anyway. Why not now?”

“Ask what?” Manuel asked, tired from the day’s events and the loss of a few dear friends.

“Will you marry me?”

Manuel stayed quiet for a while, thinking over the offer. Mario was right. Why not now? Didn’t what happened to Benedikt and Mats show how little time they truly had in life? Besides, he and Mario truly loved one another and they would ultimately end up married one day, he was positive of that.

With a nod, Manuel agreed to Mario’s proposal and looked back at the half-ruined castle. It would take a lot of magic and a lot of work to get it back up to shape after the damage the goblins and orks caused on it. It could be done, but it would take time to heal the great stones of Ansieál, just like it would take time to heal the wounds that had been inflicted today.

He sighed and shifted closer to Mario and rested his head on the huntsman’s shoulder.

“A quiet wedding though. I don’t want to…upset anyone.” Manuel said and Mario nodded, thinking of Benedikt. He wasn’t going to rub his happiness in his best friend’s face, not now or ever.

“Of course not.” He agreed quietly and held Manuel closer and closed his eyes while he rested his head against the bark of the tree. The cool night air washed over them and he listened to the sound of peace, vowing never to forsake such a blessed sound again.

\---

The bandage around his abdomen was tightened securely as the new dressing settled against his skin. It still hurt, more than anything he had ever felt before, and Lukasz was very glad that Manuel had shown up when he had. He hadn’t thought he would have survived if the man hadn’t.

He was lying on the bed in one of the suites upstairs and he didn’t think he would be able to move much for the next few days; the stiffness of his wounds enough would have done it without the threat of another injury from Manuel’s part if he dared move and pull his stitches. Lukasz thought he would have been resigned to the bit of boring idleness of staring at a ceiling for hours on end considering all the things that had changed over the past day.

Marco had stayed for him, given him the concern and care that he had longed for when they were apart. Marco had shown he loved him when he didn’t have to. Of course Lukasz injury was caused because he was trying to protect Marco. It always seemed that he was the hurt party of the two when it could have easily been Marco in his place, but it wasn’t.

Lukasz had been lying on the ground, trying to steady his breathing and his heartbeat so that he wouldn’t bleed out while Manuel was trying to save him, when he noticed the way Marco first looked at the dwarf that was trying to see to the other man’s wounds. Lukasz watched as they shared a look, a single solitary look and it was enough. Lukasz knew any chance he might have previously had was over. For a moment, he thought he was going to die knowing that Marco had finally found the One for himself, but it hadn’t come to be. He hadn’t died.

Marco stopped by the suite a while later after sunset and looked nervous. He had a bandage on his neck where he had been wounded and he thanked him for what he had done earlier in saving his life. Lukasz had simply nodded. Marco had told him the dwarf’s name, not that Lukasz was ever going to say it aloud. It was another Mario, only this time the Mario was surnamed with Götze and had no previous allegiance to men, only dwarves. Lukasz supposed that would change now if he and Marco were to become involved. Politely as he ever was, Lukasz had congratulated Marco on his happiness and had feigned fatigue and Marco had excused himself, with the promise of stopping by tomorrow and that if he needed anything at all, he need only ask Marco for it.

How did one ask for their heart back after having given it so recklessly?

A soft clearing of the throat from the doorway to his room drew Lukasz’ attention easily and he smiled slightly when he saw Robert, the Lord of Vasha in the doorway. He didn’t know much about the other man at all. Only that he was quiet, kept to himself, and always looked a little bit sad. That, and he was extremely handsome. Only now, he was leaning heavily on a walking stick that he hadn’t been doing previously and his right leg was supporting as little of his weight as possible. Lukasz felt sorry for him and his injury at once.

“I’m glad to see you are still with us.” Robert spoke in his soft tone and waved with his non-crutch holding hand towards the chair next to the bed that Marco had vacated a while before. “May I?”

Lukasz nodded and watched as the other man came further into the room and sank into the chair with a relieved sigh. He smiled ruefully at Lukasz as he sat and looked at the other man’s abdomen. Lukasz had been too hot earlier so he had thrown the sheet off of most of his body. Fortunately it was covering the more intimate parts of his anatomy, but it did leave his chest open for viewing. He blushed slightly when he saw that Robert was actually giving him a once-over and not just looking at his wound. Lukasz avoided his eyes when Robert finally returned them back to his face.

“Are you okay?” Lukasz asked instead, gesturing to Robert’s leg. The other man nodded.

“I’ll be fine, according to Bernd.” Robert shrugged and he looked away from his leg. “I believe I owe you dinner.”

Lukasz smiled a little but the blush stayed on his cheeks. “No, you said to remind you to ask me to dinner.”

“So I did. But seeing as how both of us survived the fight and were injured and I really don’t do this sort of thing very well,” Robert rambled for a moment before he caught himself, “shall we just have the dinner together?”

Lukasz continued to blush and he pulled the sheet back over his torso. He remained shy but he did look Robert in the eyes as he softly spoke. “I would like that very much.”

Robert smiled, more brightly this time, and Lukasz thought he had a nice smile. He wouldn’t mind seeing it more often.

\---

Roman stood at the ledge of the tower and looked over the grounds of mangled earth that had been the scene of the battlefield earlier. The elves had set up a camp near the edge of the forest for the night and their bonfire could be seen even from this distance. The end of a small wrapped bit of tobacco burned as Roman inhaled on the freshly made cigarette. Try as he might, he hadn’t settled his nerves.

He blew out the cloud of smoke and felt the presence of another man come up on to the top of the tower.

“It’s always nice to see you again, even if it’s like this.” The other male voice said and Roman thought if he had been younger, he would have shut the other man up by pulling him into a kiss and then they would have gone to their quarters and dispensed of an evening together. But they were both older now, gray hairs starting in the temples of both of them, and Roman really didn’t have the energy or the inclination to do so now.

He had lost too many good men today to feel up for anything except an escape.

Roman didn’t acknowledge Sebastian’s words as the other man came to stand next to him. Sebastian, who refrained from as many vices as he could including smoking, eyed the cigarette. Politely, Roman’s next puff of smoke went in the opposite direction of the guardsman and he still remained silent.

“The pirate is dead.” Sebastian said and he sounded saddened by it. Roman raised an eyebrow.

“The one you’ve been—?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yes, that one.” Roman stayed quiet a while longer and he heard Sebastian laugh without humor. “I wanted him dead and gone for so long, and now that it is so…I just…”

Roman offered the other man a drag on his cigarette. He wasn’t really surprised when Sebastian accepted it and took a drag on it. Sebastian could be provoked into things, especially with the right prodding after the worst kind of day.

“He was a good man as it turned out.” Seb said at last and Roman felt the hollowness in his chest begin to bleed all over again. “Who would have thought it.”

Roman took his almost-gone cigarette back from the other man and he finished it off, flicking the ash from the end of it with a gentle twitch of his fingers. He ground the debris to the dust with the toe of his boot and he turned away from the battlefield and faced the rooftop of the Tower.

“A lot of good men died today, too many.”

Seb watched him from the corner of his eye. “Mustafi?”

Roman simply nodded, the boy’s name lingering in his mind over and over again. He had been saved from the demon’s possession, only to die at the hand of a goblin within a week. It wasn’t fair. And he had been a good lad and would have made a great man, had he been given the chance. He had been denied it and now the world would never know what he could have been. Torsten had gone, Mustafi had gone; hell, even Kevin the annoying guard of Ebön had died. Too many good men in his charge, too many good men the world would never hear of again.

Seb turned away from the wall also and rested his hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s find ourselves some elven wine and pretend none of this ever happened.”

Roman nodded, compliant because the tobacco didn’t distract him the way he wanted. Elven wine would do the trick and then some, he thought and followed Sebastian into the castle.

\---

Thomas remained awake, though he was in a drowsy state, in his chambers as he waited for Miroslav to return. It seemed he was doing a lot of waiting around for the Wizard, but he didn’t mind, so long as he always came back. He had done a lot of keeping his word that day as well. Thomas could relax a little, knowing that Miroslav would be on his way back because he had promised. And he had kept his word every time today that he had made a promise.

He was laying in his bed, near the fire and he tried desperately to stay awake, though he knew he didn’t always succeed. He was too tired, exhausted mentally and physically, to actually stay fully conscious the entire time he waited. Not to mention, he hadn’t slept properly in months.

He thought he had fallen asleep after all because the next thing he knew when he woke up was that the fire had gotten low in the grate and it was darker in the room and colder because of it. He shifted and groaned at the feeling of pain in his belly. He didn’t think he would ever get used to that, but Miro had promised him that ache would fade with time. It was then that he noticed he wasn’t alone in his bed, either.

At the sound of his discomfort, the bed shifted and a hand started at his arm, before trailing up his shoulder and then into his hair. Then Thomas felt a gentle brush of lips against his temple. Then he heard it, the most wonderful sound in all the world, murmur near his ear.

“Are you ok? Do you need anything?”

Thomas fumbled blindly in the dark until he gripped Miroslav’s hand tightly in his own. He kept the grip on the other man’s hand tight; if he thought about it, it was probably too tight for anything remotely comfortable but he wasn’t going to let go, not even to sleep.

“I’m okay.” Thomas spoke quietly, too afraid to be loud. If he was loud, he would wake up from this dream, he thought, and he wouldn’t risk losing everything. This wonderful illusion of Miro being alive again, he wasn’t going to lose it. He couldn’t stand the heartache of such a thing if it wasn’t real.

Miroslav had to be real. He had to be.

The Wizard made a sound of contentment at his response before he shifted in the bed and arranged his body so that Thomas’ back was resting against Miro’s chest and Thomas drew the man’s arm over his upper torso. He avoided the stitches that Bernd had insisted on despite Miro’s magic, and hugged Miro’s arm to his chest. He felt the gentle rise and fall of Miro’s chest as he breathed and he prayed desperately to the Gods that this was real.

“You fell asleep,” Miroslav spoke softly. “I didn’t want to wake you; you need your rest.”

“How long was I asleep for?” Thomas whispered, afraid that he had been out too long.

“Only for a few hours, I would imagine. It’ll be dawn in a while.” Miroslav spoke quietly, his other hand that wasn’t being held against Thomas’ chest was holding Thomas’ other hand.

“Do you promise you’ll be here when I wake up?” Thomas asked, panic underlying his tone.

Miroslav smiled a little and kissed the King’s temple. “Forevermore, Thomas. Every morning for the rest of our lives, I promise you.”

Thomas nodded slowly and let out a long breath. He let his eyes close and he slowly began to relax again. He didn’t focus on the fact that it was officially their first night sharing a bed as a couple. He didn’t care at all about what anyone would say if they were discovered like this. Thomas didn’t even mind that Miroslav fell asleep on him a few moments later and that he snored.

The only thing he focused on were the words that Miroslav had promised him. He had kept his word the day before and he wasn’t going to go back on it now, Thomas knew. Forever, with Miroslav.

Thomas felt peaceful at last and for the first time in months, he fell into a restful sleep.


	20. Epilogue

It had been a glorious affair at the castle, the celebration of Thomas’ official crowning his consort, Miroslav, and the rebuilding of the capital. Bastian had been happy for him, of course, but it was too soon after the battle and there was a very large question that remained unanswered for him. Lukas and Alke had not answered to his missives that he had sent the day before, as soon as he first had gotten the chance to dispatch them after the battle was over.

He had spoken to Tobias, who had promised to do as he asked, and while the rest of the capital was taking a day of rest to celebrate Thomas and Miroslav as well as surviving the battle, Tobias had pulled Bastian aside into the cloisters of the castle. There, they had disappeared in view and had arrived in East Milton, or what remained of it anyway.

Bastian’s heart sank to the ground as he looked at the smoldering ruins of the village he had always lived in. His parents’ house was burned to the ground, and his and Lukas’ wonderful new home was in dire need of a new roof and some mending around the framework, but at least it stood. Bastian sighed in relief.

He ran to the front door, not immediately concerned with the neighbors that he had and if they had survived. He had to find Lukas, and Alke, and see if they were all right. He climbed the steps quickly and entered the room, looking around immediately for any sign of them. He didn’t see any. 

Refusing to panic, he searched the house but found nothing by way of sign of them. He didn’t see much at all that proved that they had been there in days. Bastian felt the now-somewhat familiar lurch in his stomach as the nausea took hold. He wasn’t going to panic. He was sure they were fine. He was sure they had gone to a safe house or something, disappeared into the woods and they would be fine. That’s why they hadn’t answered his letters or his inquiries.

Nodding, he moved back outside where Tobias was down by the creek. Bastian smoothed his hands on his trousers and followed after his brother. He saw the man crouched down, speaking in a few high pitched sounds that Bastian had never learned. He kept a slight distance away, hoping that the fae would not run off at the sight of him. Tobias remained speaking to them for a few moments more before Bastian saw him nod and then stand up. He bowed low to the fairy folk that he been speaking to and then gestured towards Bastian to follow him upstream and into the woods.

They trekked through the underbrush for a few miles before they stopped. Tobias tapped three times on the trunk of a beech tree and waited until they heard a response a few moments later. Tobias nodded and indicated that Bastian should go first. Cautiously, Bastian moved forward through an unseen barrier that transformed into a hidden refuge where the people, most of them anyway, of East Milton had gone to. Tobias followed him in but Bastian no longer cared about anyone except for the two people he saw on the opposite end of the refuge.

“Daddy!”

Bastian’s arms had never opened wider for anyone than when Alke ran at him and threw herself into his body. Bastian picked her up and hugged her close, enjoying the smell of her clean hair and the warmth of her body as it rested against his. Her small arms were wrapped around his neck and the warmth of her tears coated his neck.

“Hey, little one, there’s no need for that.” He said, regardless of the fact tears were dampening his own eyes. He gently brushed her dark hair out of her face and he smiled when he saw her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I missed you so much.”

“Don’t leave again, daddy.” Alke replied, moving back to hug him again. Bastian kept a tight grip on her as Lukas joined them, relief and happiness on his face also.

Bastian looked into Lukas’ eyes while he answered Alke, promising to both of them that he would never leave again.

 

Tobias watched the scene between his brother and his family for a moment before he felt a light jerk on his trousers. He glanced down and saw one of the fairie folk trying to get his attention. As carefully as he could he bent down and offered his hand so that the fae could step into his palm. He then straightened back up and spoke to the fairie in their own peculiar language.

“Thank you for helping us find them.” Tobias smiled a little but the fae looked concerned. Tobias didn’t know why. “What is it?”

The fae glanced between him and the scene between Bastian and Lukas before he turned back to the young Wizard. In his speech, he spoke and Tobias grew very still.

“Something is not right with your brother. I would keep an eye on him. Something evil lurks in him that was not there the last time we saw him. He is changed.”

Tobias shook his head slightly, but he wasn’t going to argue with the fae. They couldn’t lie, after all. “What evil is in him?”

The fairie blinked and his wings twitched as he took to the air in front of Tobias’ face. “I know not, but the elves might. I would speak to the Great Wizard about it. Perhaps he would know.”

With that, the fairie twitched his wings and flew off behind the barrier and out of sight, leaving Tobias to stare at his brother and wonder what if anything had changed and how that would affect Antiá.


End file.
